


To Infinity and Beyond

by BeanieBaby



Series: Senator Obi-Wan AU [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: A healthy sprinkling of angst, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Commander fox needs a hug, Crack Treated Seriously, Fix-It, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Or a drink, Platonic Relationships, Poor Cody, Senator Obi-Wan Kenobi, They team up to defeat Sidious, Wardrobe malfunctions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24707857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeanieBaby/pseuds/BeanieBaby
Summary: It was a redhead human male swathed in what looked like six layers of dark lace and silk. The outlandish costume ballooned around him, and as Fox reluctantly got to his feet, he spotted the long train that dragged on the gleaming floor beneath them. Fox peered down at his datapad.“You must be the new Naboo senator,” He deduced in the silence.The man ran a distracted hand over his neat facial hair and replied somewhat sardonically, “how could you tell?”
Relationships: 104th Battalion & Plo Koon, CC-1010 | Fox & Asajj Ventress, CC-1010 | Fox & CC-3636 | Wolffe, CC-1010 | Fox & Kit Fisto, CC-1010 | Fox & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Plo Koon & CC-3636 | Wolffe
Series: Senator Obi-Wan AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785886
Comments: 429
Kudos: 1629





	1. Fox

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't really expect people to want more of the nonsense/crack with the Senator!AU, but y'all did, so this is gonna be Obi-Wan's interaction with various clones, mostly Fox, who is constantly on the edge of a melt-down. 
> 
> I have a soft spot for poor Commander Fox and his one true love: work-related stress.
> 
> AN: This first chapter takes place before the first fic in the series. It will probably span multiple time points.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Padmé's outfits were WILD in the first few movies... Palpatine’s were also floofy, so I surmised that Senator Obi-Wan's formal gowns would be similarly flouncy and dramatic.

Fox had a set routine every day that started with him waking long before the other men in the Guard barracks. He would go through a number of mundane grooming exercises that, according to Thire, shouldn’t even matter since no one got to see Fox’s face during working hours anyway. He had assigned the other man extra paperwork for that little snide comment.

The day began normally, with Fox arriving precisely on-time for his shift. He’d gone through the night’s incident reports and was perusing the long list of security updates for the Chancellor’s private suite when someone cleared their throat and disturbed the soothing monotony that was Fox’s daily routine. He glanced up from the security desk and saw a strange creature peering down at him.

It was a redhead human male swathed in what looked like six layers of dark lace and silk. The outlandish costume ballooned around him, and as Fox reluctantly got to his feet, he spotted the long train that dragged on the gleaming floor beneath them. Fox peered down at his datapad.

“You must be the new Naboo senator,” He deduced in the silence.

The man ran a distracted hand over his neat facial hair and replied somewhat sardonically, “how could you tell?”

“How may I assist you, sir?” Fox asked calmly. He had seen weirder senators in weirder attire. Thorn had once made small-talk to a senator’s elbow for over five minutes after mistaking it for the representative’s face. That incident had led to Fox forcing all of his men through a four-hour training seminar on xenobiology. The most important takeaway was to remain unflappably professional no matter what.

“Yes, well I have some paperwork to file for the new apartment,” The man said, “I was wondering if you could point me to the corresponding office, Commander…”

“Fox,” Fox said blandly.

The senator held out his hand, “Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Fox stared down at the outstretched appendage. None of the other politicians had ever bothered to properly greet the clones working in the Senate building before. He wasn’t sure what the appropriate response was, but while Fox’s brain debated the situation, his body reacted automatically and clasped the man's arm. Senator Kenobi’s grip was surprisingly strong for such a soft-spoken man wrapped in silk and entitlement.

“Housing is on the fiftieth floor, sir,” He said, breaking the strange contact and retreating behind his desk again. Kenobi flashed him a set of perfect white teeth and thanked Fox with what seemed to be genuine gratitude. He watched the man stride off, those huge decorative sleeves wobbling with every step, his tasks temporarily forgotten.

Fox’s wrist comm buzzed. He had set it to silent and only for priority alerts while he was actively on-duty. He glanced down and saw the sudden slew of gossip from the clone commanders chat group. According to Ponds' Jedi general, Kenobi and his ridiculous dressing gown had just come from a Senate meeting where his wardrobe had managed to trip up at least four elderly senators and send two of them to the medbay with fractured hips.

“Commander Fox.”

Fox looked up from the messages. Kenobi was back, sans the exaggerated train of his dress.

“I may have jammed the public elevator,” He admitted weakly.

* * *

In the end, Fox had to briefly abandon his station and escort him up to the fiftieth floor in the Coruscant Guard’s security lifts. They stood awkwardly side-by-side, half of Fox’s vision obscured by one of the huge sleeves. He kept his eyes firmly glued to the overhead display until a loud rip tore through the silence. Kenobi had pulled the right side of his gown cleanly off and tossed it onto the floor.

“Sir,” Fox sputtered.

“Queen Amidala's assistant insisted on this _ridiculous_ outfit for my first Senate speech. I feel like a monkey in a parade,” He muttered under his breath as he produced a small dagger from somewhere on his person and punctured the other side with a manic gleam in his bright blue eyes. Fox felt a stab of alarm. None of the other senators he had dealt with in the past carried weapons. Instinct told him to confiscate it inside the administration building, but—

“Much better,” Kenobi breathed happily once he wrestled the constricting waistcoat off. He was left standing in an undershirt and black trousers, neatly-jelled auburn hair spilling into his flushed face. The senator kicked his destroyed costume away and stumbled as his left boot caught in the slippery silk and gave way.

Fox’s arms automatically shot out to steady the man just as the lift doors opened to reveal a small group of shock troopers standing on the other side. They had stopped on the forty-second floor. One of Kenobi’s ripped sleeves was hanging off of Fox’s armor-clad shoulder. He froze.

“We’ll take the next one,” Stone volunteered for the clones outside the security elevator. The doors slowly slid shut. Fox closed his eyes beneath the safety of his bucket and silently counted to ten.

His wrist comm buzzed angrily. Fox could almost hear the other commanders’ howls of glee and the ensuing gossip presumably already passing through the group chat. If only there was a way to shut it all down. He’d have to look into the regulation codes again. Maybe filing a complaint about wasting GAR resources would finally do the trick.

The doors to the lift parted on the fiftieth floor. Senator Kenobi gave him a beaming smile.

“Thank you for your assistance, Commander Fox,” He said, patting Fox amicably on the shoulder before bending to gather the fabric. His last glimpse of Kenobi was of the new Naboo senator viciously cramming his destroyed gown into a nearby bin while an administrator staff stared on in appalled shock.

In the privacy of the security lift, Fox finally switched his comms back on. A holopic snapshot of a disheveled Kenobi sprawled in his arms had already circulated among the other commanders even though Stone and Thire were both no longer in the group. Fox had made sure of it by kicking them out himself. He checked the send receipt and ground his teeth in rage.

The file tag had Wolffe’s ID above it. That utter bastard. How any of the Jedi generals thought he was the most stoic and serious of the clone commanders was lost to Fox.

He slammed his helmeted forehead into the side of the elevator, finally announcing time-of-death to his normal, stress-free day.

_“Kark it.”_


	2. Wolffe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Senator Kenobi's first diplomatic trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was Obi-Wan's mission with the Wolfpack mentioned in the first fic of the series.

Senator Kenobi and his entourage were fifteen minutes late.

“Patience, Wolffe,” Plo said gently, “your eyes are going to stick permanently that way if you keep rolling them into the back of your head at every little inconvenience.”

“General, please don’t rob me of the one thing in life that still gives me joy,” Wolffe answered drily, checking the time again. He had sent out a priority alert message to the commander chat aimed at Fox but had yet to receive any reply.

“I see that I no longer occupy that category,” The Jedi master shook his head sadly, “words hurt, you know.”

“Hmm, you’ll survive, sir,” Wolffe replied with a small smirk. Plo let out an amused chuckle.

“Go take care of your Jedi business,” He glanced at the leader of the Wolfpack, “I promise I’ll keep the men on their best behavior.”

“May the Force be with you, my dear Wolffe,” His general murmured, hand settling briefly on Wolffe’s shoulder.

“You too, sir,” He nodded before adding as a reminder, “don’t eat anything Master Fisto tries to give you.”

“It was that one time, commander,” Plo sighed as he turned to leave. Wolffe shook his head ruefully. Whatever Kit Fisto had snuck into Plo’s drink at a senate party last year had made the calm, level-headed general hug each and every member of the Wolfpack. Wolffe had spent a stressful night in medical trying to keep the overly affectionate Kel Dor in bed while the drugs wore off. Thank the stars that medic from Rex’s team had been on-call and had no qualms about tying a High Jedi General to a hospital bed (well, “high” in both sense of the word). Master Fisto was blacklisted by the Wolfpack for a long while after that incident.

The clones assigned to battalions led by Jedi generals usually liked, or at least tolerated, their generals. Over the years, it had become an issue of pride for most, and as commanders, they felt a certain possessiveness toward their Jedi. Bly once punched an ARC trooper on leave and broke the poor kid’s nose for saying something disrespectful about his general. Rex complained about Anakin Skywalker all the time, but only he was allowed to talk shit about the Chosen One. Ponds swore his general Mace Windu was the best, but Wolffe not-so-politely disagreed. Thank you very much.

Wolffe had the best Jedi. Period. End of discussion.

For a while, Cody’s seemingly mild-mannered general Qui-Gon Jinn had been a close contender to Plo Koon until a mission a few months back when Jinn had decided, on a whim, to take the 212th and part of the 327th to a wayward planet in the Unknown Regions for a scientific expedition. They’d discovered an odd world chock full of weird parasitic worms that had given all of the men violent bouts of diarrhea and non-stop vomiting for weeks. A horrified Cody had nearly gotten left behind after the native warriors bizarrely elected him their new Queen and tried to fuck him in an elaborate moonlit ceremony.

The sheer amount of paperwork that came with the illicit side-trip would have reduced even the most bureaucratic robot to tears. Speaking of Fox—

Wolffe turned to see the new Naboo senator walk into the 104th hanger with three very familiar brothers in red and white armor.

“The hell is that?” He barked at the Coruscant Guards, his voice echoing off the vast metal walls.

“It’s a protocol droid, dumbass,” Thorn hollered back, flashing him a grin as he tore off his bucket and nearly backhanded C-3PO in the face with it.

“You know what I mean,” Wolffe dutifully suppressed his eye-roll and jerked his chin at the massive crate Fox and Thire were pushing behind Kenobi.

“It’s Senator Kenobi’s attire for the trip,” Fox said stiffly, handing it over to two members of the Wolfpack to load onto the fighter.

“Apologies for the lateness, Commander Wolffe. The Chancellor’s meeting went longer than anticipated,” Senator Kenobi gushed, rushing forth to greet them. Compared to Stone's grainy holopic, he was more handsome in person, with shiny copper colored hair and sparkling blue eyes. Kenobi had a strange dancer’s grace in the way he moved that was absent from any of Wolffe’s brothers or even most of the Jedi generals.

“We’ll debrief in the ship,” Wolffe decided, glancing at Fox for confirmation. Grand Jedi Master Yoda was already on Kashyyyk, and Kenobi’s mission was to aid in negotiating some form of allegiance to the Republic.

It was going to be awkward working with Coruscant Guards involved, Wolffe could already tell by Sinker’s stink-eye. The Guards policed the city and kept the politicians safe. To the brothers dying on the battle field, there was something degrading about catering to the senators and bureaucrats in their fancy apartments and doing mundane administrative work.

And at the head of the Coruscant Guards, sat Commander Fox who was notorious for being by-the-book. If Wolffe were to describe Fox’s personality, it would be something along the lines of wet cardboard. It certainly didn’t win him any points with their fellow brothers. Rex, who was a bit of a legend to the shinies by now, didn’t bother hiding his blatant dislike for Fox. Wolffe had a more...complicated relationship with him.

“—do not eat or touch any unidentified fauna. The whole planet is a swamp-land filled with deadly creatures and plants that can kill you in a heartbeat, senator. Our job is to keep you healthy and alive for the entire duration of the journey,” Thorn was shouting at their passenger over the loud hum of the thruster engines. Things would quiet down once they entered hyperspace. Fox stood close by, one hand tangled in an overhead handle strap to steady himself in the rocking ship and the other lying loose at his side. He had his bucket on, so Wolffe couldn’t see his expression.

“I promise I won’t make that job too difficult for you, Commanders,” Kenobi yelled back, twisting to give Fox an affirmative nod. Aside from a tightening of his grip around the leather strap, Fox gave no outward reaction.

Once the flight steadied, Kenobi unbuckled himself from his seat and wandered over to the Wolfpack to properly introduce himself. Wolffe kept an eye on the senator as he memorized everyone’s names. Thire and Thorn soon joined in on the lively conversation. Boost pulled out his upgraded blaster gun and started explaining the improvements to Kenobi, who was nodding along with interest. Fox stood silently in the back of the starfighter like the wet cardboard he was.

Wolffe heaved a sigh and got up. Somebody had to keep the frigid bastard company. He might as well make the sacrifice.

It was going to be a _long_ trip.


	3. Wolffe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You brought you paperwork?” Wolffe stared across the table at the helmeted man who was scribbling furiously with his stylus, “what is wrong with you, Fox?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, there's no romance between any of them. 
> 
> I think Fox really misses the familial camaraderie between his old squad mates, but as the clone commander directly answering to the Chancellor, he's been told by Palpatine that he's better than the rest of his brothers, that he has to make the hard choices, and that he's a good soldier. But it destroys him every time he has to put a trooper down, and it's pushed him away from Rex and the rest of his former friends (except Wolffe). 
> 
> Obi-Wan sort of fills in Palpatine's role without inducing any of the horrible guilt and shame, so he's starting to become attached even though he knows he shouldn't. Poor baby. Starved of affection :(

“You brought paperwork?” Wolffe stared across the table at the helmeted man who was scribbling furiously with his stylus, “what is wrong with you, Fox?”

They were stationed inside the senator’s temporary abode (more of a nice hut, if Wolffe were to be completely honest), which was an unusual setup as most politicians kept their clone guards outside the privacy of their rooms during diplomatic trips. Wolffe had gotten used to sleeping in shifts on the ships and standing guard in the hallways. Kenobi ran things a bit...differently. He had offered them food and various other amenities while he disappeared into the adjacent room to change into the dreaded “monkey suit.”

“You’re seriously going to just keep ignoring me?” Wolffe sidled closer to his batch brother, the substantial weight of his body plus armor tilting the soft straw seat cushion Fox was perched on. His stylus skidded wildly across the screen in the middle of a signature and their plastoid-covered knees clacked together merrily. Fox elbowed him viciously and finally set the pad down.

“What do you want?” Came the flat voice within the bucket.

“How’ve you been? We haven’t had a drink in ages,” He pointed out, leaning his shoulder into Fox’s. Most of the Wolfpack were outside, aiding Master Yoda while Wolffe and Fox kept an eye on Kenobi. Apparently, some representative from the Separatist side would be arriving soon. Fox purposefully shuffled his ass a few inches off to the side and picked up his paperwork again.

“Wow, you really are zero fun—”

“Commander, a little help please!” A strained voice said. Fox shot to his feet on autopilot, the sudden movement sending Wolffe tumbling to the ground as the cushions bounced back. His helmet rolled under the table. Wolffe crawled upright as Kenobi appeared in the doorway. The senator's expression was mildly exasperated when he twisted to show them the complex zip in the back of his crimson robes. The colors almost matched Fox’s armor.

“I may have gained a few pounds since coming to Coruscant,” He admitted in the tense silence. Fox’s shoulders relaxed a little. He set the datapad down and walked over. Wolffe watched with detached interest as his squad mate fixed the crooked fabric with clinical efficiency, smoothing out wrinkles and adjusting the slipping sash-like belt.

“Thank you,” Kenobi said, touching him briefly on the forearm. He wandered over to his belongings and dug around for something that he handed to Fox. “I noticed you didn’t eat anything with the other troopers on the way here. You’ve never eaten around me or taken off your helmet, Commander, so please free free to do so while I’m out tonight. Can’t have you falling ill. the Chancellor would be beside himself.”

At the mention of the Chancellor, the tension in Fox’s body returned tenfold. Wolffe frowned.

“Commander Wolffe, make sure he eats something,” The senator sighed, pausing at the door for another worried glance at Fox, who was doing his best impression of a lifeless statue. The two Guards tasked to go with him and Master Yoda to the meeting were already waiting outside.

“Will do, sir,” He dutifully replied before turning back to Fox. He had dropped the ration bar the moment Kenobi moved out of sight and made a beeline for his paperwork again.

“Seriously?”

Silence from the head of the Coruscant Guards. Fox pulled up an acquisition form.

“He’s actually decent for a politician,” Wolffe crossed his arms over his chest, “why are you being such a difficult ass?”

“I answer to the Chancellor,” Fox said in a monotone, not looking up from the screen.

“So? Doesn’t mean you can’t act like a normal human being while doing it.”

More silence. Wolffe sighed and walked over to pick up the ration bar. He set it down on the table next to Fox’s elbow, thumbed the side of his helmet like he used to do to Fox’s bare cheek when they were young, and wandered out into the humid night. He kept an eye on his comm, in case anything came up on the other end with Kenobi’s meeting. All was quiet. Fox was still immerse in his paperwork, hunched over the datapad with his bucket firmly in place.

It was like a weird coping mechanism. Similar to the way Cody used to tug around that old raggedy blanket of his back on Kamino. A physical barrier between him and the rest of the world. Kept firmly in place so that the other brothers wouldn’t see Fox's emotions. So they’d treat him a little less like a being of flesh and blood.

Easier to despise.

_Fuck._

“You don’t want to get too attached.”

Fox glanced up sharply at the words. Wolffe saw his fist tighten around the stylus. Yup, he’d hit the mark right on its head. What he didn’t expect was for the Coruscant commander to grab Wolffe’s helmet (lying on its side next to his left foot) and fling it at his unprotected face.

* * *

“You _suck, vod,”_ Wolffe told Fox honestly, wincing as he prodded at his split lip.

The flimsy little table was flipped on its side, a hole put through the middle during their impromptu scuffle. The screen of Fox’s datapad was cracked. Wolffe had trodden on it purposefully after Fox tried to jam the stylus up his nose.

“Fuck you, too,” Fox snapped back, no longer pretending to be an emotionless corpse. He still had his bucket on, the stubborn asshole, but Wolffe had torn Fox's kama cleanly off his hips. So that was something at least.

_“Did you try to force-feed him, Commander Wolffe?”_

Kriff—

Senator Kenobi was back.

Fox froze against him, one hand still loosely wrapped around Wolffe’s wrist and body half-draped over his legs. They had both lost track of time. He was stiff as a board, but Wolffe couldn’t see anything beneath the blank shadow of his visor. So yeah, maybe keeping one’s bucket on at all times had some advantages. Wolffe heard quiet snickering coming from the doorway. They’d better not be his boys, or else—

“The first meeting went well, if either of you is interested to know,” The senator said gently, approaching on light steps. Kenobi didn’t seem upset coming back to a half-destroyed room, just a little baffled. He picked up the broken piece of Fox’s kama and bit his lip.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who ripped their skirt this evening,” He said with a straight face. “Oh, and I brought dinner back for you, Commander Fox. You will be eating every bite. Thorn said you preferred direct orders over suggestions, so that’s an order.”

Fox bashed his head onto Wolffe’s pauldron with a loud thunk. Wolffe wasn’t sure if it was a last attempt to headbutt him or a desperate bid to finally put himself out of his misery. He patted his brother on the back of the helmet and grinned.

Oh yeah, Wolffe was starting to like this particular politician.

* * *

The assassination attempt came on the tail-end of the negotiations, one day after Yoda departed for another Wookiee settlement on the other side of the planet. The Separatists had sent bounty hunters alongside the battle droids, five to be exact.

They had taken out four of them before the mercenaries could make it past the clone troopers, but in the chaos, someone had slipped through and made an attempt on the King’s young son.

Wolffe and Fox burst into the destroyed conference room just in time to see the fifth assassin keel over sideways, blood gushing from a gaping wound in his neck. Senator Kenobi, looking a little windswept but otherwise unharmed, stood a few paces off, the young Wookiee prince huddled behind him.

“What happened?” Fox was the first to find his voice. He sounded as bewildered as Wolffe felt.

“Uh, he just...slipped and fell, I guess. It all happened so fast,” Kenobi said after a delicate pause. The Wookiee garbled something in protest, but the Naboo senator put up a soothing hand that accidentally covered his moving mouth. He was petting the poor Wookiee boy like a dog, “Prince Rikummee is speaking nonsense, he’s been through such a frightening experience. Boost, be a dear and escort him to his parents please.”

“Slipped and fell. How? Neck-first onto a knife?” Thire questioned dubiously, shuffling closer to examine the twitching corpse.

The language translator in Wolffe’s helmet had been damaged during his lame little fistfight with Fox, so he glanced over at the other commander for assistance.

“The Prince said you strangled the assasin with your belt and stabbed him in the neck with the decorative buckle,” Fox said cautiously as he reluctantly holstered his blasters.

“Preposterous,” The senator denied as the heavy bottom part of his elaborate ensemble of the day fell away without the aid of his missing belt, revealing the leggings beneath.

“Oh Gods, _not again,”_ Fox groaned, frustration audibly crackling through the speakers as he turned to one of his men, “Thorn, you packed the extra cloak I asked you to in case there was another wardrobe malfunction?”

“Affirmative, sir,” Thorn pulled it out like he was performing a magic trick. Kenobi’s face brightened as Fox quickly draped it over his shoulders and bundled the senator into a secure cocoon.

“You are so thoughtful, Commander Fox,” He brushed a streak of soot off of Fox’s visor with his sleeve. “I really do hope the Chancellor assigns you to me on a more permanent basis.”

Fox’s gloved fists tightened around the fabric. He let go a heartbeat later as if he’d been scalded and dropped his hands to his sides. The senator smiled at Wolffe and the other troopers in the doorway. “Shall we?”

 _“Not a kriffing word about this to the evil bastards in the command chat, Wolffe,”_ Fox hissed at him as he stomped after Kenobi. Wolffe rolled his eyes and followed his flustered brother out of the room. Of course the others were going to hear about Fox's little crush. He even had video footage stored in his HUD. It was going to be a hoot at the next commandos gathering.

As a show of gratitude for saving his son, King Grakchawwaa officially declared his alliance to the Republic two weeks later. Wolffe never quite figured out how that last bounty hunter died, but it didn’t really matter since he hadn’t lost a single man on both trips.

That was a solid victory in his book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes. Senator Kenobi is not as helpless as he looks. I'll share the backstory later. 
> 
> Three days of updates, wow. I'm gonna take a break. 
> 
> Lots of love~
> 
> -BB


	4. Fox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took place during the period where Obi-Wan got caught on his diplomatic trip and sent to Zygerria as a slave (mentioned in the first fic of the series). 
> 
> It's a little less crackish. Bit of angst.

“They clean up nice,” A female senator said, her strange glowing green eyes raking down Fox’s body. He and a few senior shock troopers had been ordered to join the Chancellor’s lavish dinner party in their dress whites. Fox’s skin prickled with discomfort. He was so used to covering his face with his helmet, being without it felt physically jarring. 

“Yes, this one here is from an earlier batch,” The Kaminoen representative gestured at him, “If you like CC-1010, the upgraded models are even better.” 

He caught Thire’s gaze from across the room where he was being examined by a few other politicians like a commodity on display. All around them, men and women dressed in lavish gowns laughed and conversed while they dined on fine cuisine from across the galaxy. It didn’t look like they were in the middle of a raging war. 

An odd ringing noise was buzzing within Fox’s skull. He felt ill. 

“Where’s Kenobi?” 

The name penetrated the dense fog in his aching head. Fox glanced up at the speaker and saw one of the numerous senators that his men had once been charged to protect. He had cost the lives of twenty-six Coruscant Guards and clone troopers. One of Thire’s batch brothers had managed to escort the terrified man to an underground bunker before the Separatist droids shot him full of holes. Fox had gripped the datapad so hard he’d cracked the screen after reading the full report from the incident. 

Carefully, he unclenched his fingers from where they were digging painful crescent moons into the flesh of his palms. 

“Off-planet for trade negotiations,” The Chancellor answered, appearing out of the crowd in dark blue robes that looked strangely similar to the ones Senator Kenobi had worn the first time Fox had met him all those weeks ago. He wondered briefly if it was some sort of traditional Naboo garment. The training on Kamino had not covered the intricacies of different cultures and customs. Fox had to teach his Guards that himself. 

“How unfortunate,” The oily man tutted, eyes glittered in the light of the chandeliers overhead. “I was looking forward to seeing him again.” 

“Yes, well he’s become quite popular in the Senate since his arrival,” Palpatine said, taking a sip of wine. 

“With those good looks and that tongue,” The senator smirked, “I’m not surprised. Has he signed onto support for that ridiculous new bill?” 

“What bill?” The chancellor asked. He was feigning ignorance, Fox knew. He’d prepped the Chancellor himself on the Clone Rights proposal that some members of the Senate had drafted a few months back. 

The senator’s eyes fell on Fox. He had averted his gaze during their conversation and was staring at the shiny floor next to the man’s left boot. “Oh, you know. The one that wants to give these things basic citizen rights.” 

For a strange moment, Fox almost hoped— 

“No, he has not,” The Chancellor said. 

Ah, of course. What was he thinking. Kenobi was a politician. He was no different from the rest of the people in this room. So what if he’d been nice to the troopers on that one trip? Many of the senators were until blasters started shooting, and then, all of a sudden, Fox’s brothers became nothing more than cannon fodder. 

The rest of the conversation became garbled background noise. Fox lost track of how long the dinner party went on. He kept his back ramrod straight the entire time. 

“Apologies for Senator Vin’s harsh words today, Commander Fox,” The Chancellor’s pale gnarled hand on his forearm pulled Fox back to the present. The room had emptied, and he was left standing alone with Palpatine. 

He didn’t reply. The monstrous gleaming metropolis outside the Chancellor’s apartment hurt Fox’s eyes. 

“Know your place,” Palpatine murmured solemnly, “you are part of something so much bigger than yourself. We all are.” 

Of course he was. Fox needed that reminder. He’d almost forgotten in those few weeks off-planet spent in the company of his batch brother and Senator Kenobi. That had given the false illusion that Fox was more than just an expendable clone, not a mere product bought using Republic credits.

It wasn’t even his name — Fox. 

He didn’t have one. 

None of them did. 

“Yes, sir,” He answered dully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Commander Fox.
> 
> Basically, the politicians are deciding on whether to order more clone troopers for the war. That's why Palpatine had some of them present at the party out of their regular armor.


	5. Thorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fox was on the warpath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy International Father's Day!
> 
> Super speedy update, since I had most of it written. This takes place after the Zygerria incident. There's a slight discrepancy with the second chapter of that fic where Anakin sort of alluded to not knowing Fox. I wrote that before this bit, so please ignore. (Also, feel free to ignore that fic entirely. I think things will mostly still make sense?) 
> 
> Back to chaos and crack again. 
> 
> This is in Thorn's POV. I headcanon him as sort of having a happy-go-lucky personality and is really good at fighting (like his namesake Thor). Loved him in TCW. Went out like a boss.

Fox was on the warpath.

Thorn sighed as his wrist comm buzzed with yet another message from one of his fellow commanders. He turned on the chat log and was bombarded with a slew of private messages to his line.

CC-2224 (Cody): What the hell is this? I just got a message from Waxer that he and Boil got arrested by the Coruscant police for speeding. They weren’t even on landspeeders. They were on foot!

CT-411 (Ponds): Why did I get a fine for not wearing my regulation blacks??? I just got out of the shower!

CC-5869 (Pebble): Thorn, he’s out of control. New record achieved. Fox made six new recruits cry today. I think someone pissed their pants.

Thorn took time to actually reply to that one.

CC-2291 (Thorn): Stone, vod, I think those nicknames are adorable, but please change your public comm username back to normal. Fox just arrested a bunch of Cody’s men for walking too fast.

**[ SYSTEM_UPDATE]: CC-5869 (Pebble) is now CC-5869 (Stone).**

CC-5869 (Stone): Aww, jeez. Where the fuck is Thire when we need him?

Thire was the only one who got away with telling Fox to cool the fuck down. Too bad Thire was on a supply-escort ship headed to some tiny planet in the Outer Rim. Wolffe had that rare privilege, too, but his usually came with more violence. Thank the gods he was actually off-planet.

CC-2224 (Cody): Ok, your boys in red got my medic now, Thorn. You have to put the man down. For the good of the vode.

CC-2291 (Thorn): You finally got approved for a new medic? Congrats.

CC-2224 (Cody): Yes, Butcher.

CC-2291 (Thorn): Your new medic’s name is Butcher?

CC-2224 (Cody): Yes.

CC-2291 (Thorn): Maybe he should stay in lockup…

CC-2224 (Cody): Thorn, fucking do something about your crazy boss before I do.

He sighed and closed that chat. Maybe Thire could offer some insight into Fox’s sudden mood spiral. The response came almost immediately.

CC-4477 (Thire): Leave him be.

Thorn had to read those three words a couple more times before the meaning registered.

CC-2291 (Thorn): WHY???

CC-4477 (Thire): The Senate is due to vote on a bill for Clone Rights in two days. It’s definitely not going to pass, but Fox still wants everyone on their best behavior around the city. Even if it fails, the blame’s not on our end.

CC-2291 (Thorn): Oh…

CC-4477 (Thire): Look, vod. The brothers in the GAR might not understand what we have to deal with on Coruscant, but I need you to have Fox’s back. We’re all he’s got.

CC-2291 (Thorn): Roger that. Cody’s not going to be pleased.

CC-4477 (Thire): He’ll get over it.

CC-2291 (Thorn): Safe trip, brother.

CC-4477 (Thire): Thanks, signing off now.

Thorn exhaled heavily and rubbed at his face. Fox and Thire were more aware of the political atmosphere than he was. Thorn was a simple man with simple interests. He could talk about hand grenades and blaster cannons for hours on end, but still had trouble spelling the Chancellor’s full name without making a mistake in there somewhere.

A soft gentle tap on the door of the supply closet functioning as Thorn’s office made him look up. The Naboo senator that he had gone to the Wookiee home planet with stood framed in the doorway, his hand still lifted in the air. Thorn flinched so hard he dropped his bucket. It rolled over the tiny table and clacked to a noisy stop beside the man’s fine leather boots.

Senator Kenobi picked it up and smiled, “hello, Commander Thorn. May I have a moment of your time, please?”

* * *

“Sir, I really can’t just take you up to the Chancellor’s Office without express permission from Commander Fox,” Thorn pleaded as they stepped into the security lift. He had been surprised to find Rex’s Jedi general waiting for them on the ground level of the senate building.

“General Skywalker here has a scheduled appointment and he has generously agreed to my taking half of the meeting time,” Kenobi said mildly, folding his hands inside his wide sleeves. He was in white today, and the vivid copper of his hair shone against the ivory collar.

“Yes, but the register shows that only he’s allowed up,” Thorn pointed out. “Commander Fox, he’s not going to be—”

“Let me handle Fox,” The senator held up a calming hand. He leaned over and murmured something in Skywalker’s ear. The Jedi nodded. Blue eyes crinkled as Kenobi turned to smile at Thorn, “relax, commander.”

* * *

Boy, he hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he’d “handle Fox.”

Maybe the senator had told Skywalker to do some Jedi mind tricks on Fox, because the Coruscant commander had let them into Palpatine’s empty office to wait on the couches. Or, maybe that was standard protocol for the Chosen One? He wouldn’t know. Thorn wasn’t allowed direct interactions with the Chancellor anymore after the “Shiv Palpatine” spelling fiasco. Fox and Thire triple-checked all of Thorn's paperwork for him now.

“What happened?”

Thorn glanced at Fox. What was he on about?

“Ah, I might have been on the receiving end of a few floggings before General Skywalker located me on Zygerria,” Kenobi answered Fox's question, rubbing the back of his head with an embarrassed look on his handsome face. Now that he’d mentioned it, there was a cut on his left cheek that had scabbed over and dark bags under his eyes. He looked a little worse for wear.

“Sorry about the delayed rescue,” The Jedi said, “we ran into some Separatist interference on the way.”

“Not your fault, general,” Kenobi said lightly, “I am glad to be back. There’s much to do in the Senate this week.”

“You mean the bill?” Thorn asked.

“Yes, that,” The senator’s tone had gone flat. Something creaked in the silent office. Fox had curled his gloved fingers into tight fists behind his back.

“You didn’t sign on,” He stated.

Kenobi glanced at him. “No, I didn’t.”

“Why?” It was the Jedi that asked the question. Skywalker frowned, “Shouldn’t the clone troops be given basic rights?”

“Ideally, yes,” The senator said mildly, folding his hands in his lap, “but we are already in a huge budget deficit as it is. The last meeting proposed ordering more troopers from Kamino by borrowing high-interest loans from the Banking Clan, which has already declared loyalty to the Confederacy of Independent Systems. If the Rights bill were to pass, the costs of running the existing clone army would increase exponentially. There is essentially zero chance of it being voted into law during the war.”

“But what about compassion and kindness?” The Jedi sputtered.

“I’d hope you would treat your men with compassion and kindness regardless of Coruscant laws,” Kenobi said tartly. “I would have supported it if the Clone bill was anything else but a well-coordinated publicity stunt to placate the rising civilian unease at the heavy clone casualties. I am not saying that there is no substance to it, but if the proposing senators really wanted to pass it, a post-war vote would have been the best option.”

“Ugh, this is why I hate politicians,” Skywalker groaned, flopping onto the couch with his long gangly limbs outstretched, “Endless schemes and backstabbing.”

“And we dislike the Jedi in equal amounts,” Kenobi said with a small smirk. Rex’s general slit open an eye to glare at him.

“Why?”

“You’re hopelessly naive about the intricacies of politics, general,” He said silkily, “always waving your little light sticks around and pretending you’re better than the rest of us just because you use the Force and can jump up the side of a tall building.”

Skywalker sat up, “They’re called lightsabers, Senator Kenobi.”

“It’s just a glowing laser sword,” Kenobi shrugged, “I don’t see what’s so special about them.”

“They are more than that!” Rex’s general fumed, chest puffing in indignation.

“How?” The senator lifted a eyebrow in challenge. “Show me.”

What happened next…Thorn wasn’t exactly certain. Skywalker passed his weapon over, and at some point during the impromptu show-and-tell somebody turned it on, and the senator might have accidentally dropped it in surprise. There was a shower of hot sparks and lots of panicked yelling. Then, Skywalker managed to power off the crazy light stick and all four of them peered down at the deep groove in the Chancellor’s floor that the plasma blade had left behind. It was still smoking gently.

“Oh, fuck,” Skywalker murmured in dismay. Fox collapsed on a nearby couch.

“We can cover it with the carpets,” Kenobi suggested.

“W-what?” Thorn stared at him, slack-jawed.

The senator didn’t look half as shocked and horrified as the rest of them felt. Skywalker had turned the color of spoiled milk, Fox had his helmeted head buried between his knees, and Thorn was on the verge of terrified tears himself. As the Jedi poster boy for the GAR, Skywalker was going to be just fine, but he and Fox were probably going to get decommissioned for such a massive screwup.

“The carpets are really thick,” Kenobi explained patiently, “he won’t find out.”

Fox let out a small sound that resembled a tea kettle boiling over. Thorn had a feeling his commander’s poor mind had finally snapped under the stress of the job. Kenobi strode over and put his arms around Fox. It was an awkward embrace with all that bulky armor and Fox being mostly catatonic with horror.

“General Skywalker, be a dear and help Commander Thorn move the carpets,” He ordered, rocking Fox gently like he was an infant child. He was probably in shock. Thorn would be lying if he said he didn’t worried about the man’s mental health sometimes.

Rex’s Jedi met Thorn's confused gaze with wide blue eyes. He looked awfully young for a man who held thousands of Thorn’s brothers’ lives in his hands. And at that moment, it felt like they were bonding over their mutual shared trauma in Palpatine’s office today. Then, mirroring Thorn, Skywalker bent down resignedly and grabbed a corner of the huge expensive Naboo rug.

* * *

“You let him _play_ with your lightsaber?” Mace Windu’s voice finally cracked on the word. Rex was glad he had his helmet on so the Jedi couldn’t see his expression. Anakin had freaked out earlier and called him in at the last minute for emotional support.

“Well, not like _that,_ ” Rex's young general protested, color rising in his cheeks, “the senator wanted to see what was so special about our weapons. He dropped it on the floor by accident when it was still turned on.”

“Which, according to Commander Fox's detailed incident report, burned a three-inch crater in the ground that _you_ tried to hide by moving the carpets in the Chancellor’s office,” The Jedi master continued through gritted teeth.

Anakin frowned, “Wait, what about Obi-Wan?”

“What about the senator?” Windu’s eyes narrowed, “There’s no mention of his involvement with the cover-up attempt. Only you, Skywalker.”

 _“Oh, suck a cock, Commander Fox,”_ Anakin snarled under his breath before he could stop himself. Rex cleared his throat behind his general, trying valiantly to remind Skywalker to reign in his explosive temper.

A vein throbbed dangerously on the side of Mace’s bald head. How he managed to buff it so that Rex could mostly see his own bucket's reflection was frankly astounding. It must have been part of some intimidation tactic or perhaps a beacon signaling device for the clone troopers. He’d have to run his theories by Commander Ponds later.

“Uh,” Anakin’s left eye twitched. “No harm no foul?”

“Yes harm and yes foul, Skywalker!” Mace exploded over the conference table. He looked like he wanted to throw himself at Anakin and personally throttle the Chosen One. Master Tiin reached over and laid a supportive hand on his clenched fist.

“What happened?” Anakin asked, bewildered at the strong reaction. The select masters standing in a loose circle around him all declined to speak, their gazes firmly trained elsewhere. The silence dragged on for a few excruciating seconds before Wolffe’s Jedi heaved a sigh and spoke, his voice low and somber, “Chancellor Palpatine twisted his ankle in the carpet-covered hole and chipped a tooth on the edge of his desk when he fell.”

“Oh,” Anakin said stupidly, “was it serious?”

“Well, his left foot swelled up to the size of gundark balls, he's got a bad concussion, and the Senate vote he was supposed to conduct was delegated to the other Naboo senator. Kenobi postponed it until further notice,” Kit Fisto piped up helpfully.

Cody’s Jedi general turned to him curiously, “do male gundarks have external genitalia?”

“Enough!” Mace barked before Fisto could answer. He glared daggers at the two masters.

“We’ll talk after the meeting,” The Nautolan Jedi promised out of the corner of his mouth to Qui-Gon Jinn.

“And you, Master Fisto,” Windu rounded on him, “wear those robes the proper way or I will personally put you through that fifty-hour long refresher course on Jedi etiquette again.”

* * *

**[Communications_Log_CC-4477/CC-2291]**

CC-4477 (Thire): What happened? I heard from Stone that Fox had to lie down for a bit in the middle of his shift.

CC-2291 (Thorn): Oh, I think he had a panic attack in the Chancellor’s office the other day.

CC-4477 (Thire): Why?

CC-2291 (Thorn): Honestly, vod. I don’t have the brain cells to piece together what happened in there.

CC-4477 (Thire): Well, at least the vote’s been postponed indefinitely.

CC-2291 (Thorn): Is that a good thing??

CC-4477 (Thire): It’s the best outcome out of all the possibilities. They would’ve killed the bill entirely if the vote happened yesterday.

CC-2291 (Thorn): I still don’t get it, but whatever you say, Thire.

CC-4477 (Thire): Are Cody’s boys out of lockup?

CC-2291 (Thorn): Yup. I let them out while Fox was having his lie down. So, I guess Butcher’s out there…butchering people as we speak.

CC-4477 (Thire): Who’s Butcher?

CC-2291 (Thorn): Cody’s new medic.

CC-4477 (Thire): That’s a terrifying name for a medic.

CC-2291 (Thorn): Why do I feel like I got played?

CC-4477 (Thire): What do you mean?

CC-2291 (Thorn): I don’t know. I need a drink.

CC-4477 (Thire): Me, too. This onboard protocol droid is annoying as heck.

CC-2291 (Thorn): Is it the one called C-3PO from our last trip?

CC-4477 (Thire): Yes. How did you know?

CC-2291 (Thorn): Wolffe’s written a novel's worth of ways he plots to kill the droid and pass it off as an accident if they ever cross paths again.

CC-4477 (Thire): Alright, I’ll message Wolffe directly for some advice then. Thanks, brother.

CC-2291 (Thorn): No problem. Good luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Anakin got thrown under the bus lol. Obi-Wan convinced Fox to omit certain bits in the incident report. Another reason why Obi-Wan didn't sign on in support was that he wouldn't be able to assume the neutral moderator role if he had. 
> 
> Is Obi-Wan is actually better at manipulating people than Palpatine? He'd make a good Sith. Too bad he's out to get Palpatine.
> 
> Again, this is crack, so don't take it too seriously :)
> 
> Update: there’s going to be a mini side-story about Butcher the medic :)))


	6. Fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good soldiers also listen to their hearts,” Kenobi’s eyes were sad when he brushed a gentle thumb over the scratch marks in the white plastoid over Fox's chest. “What does yours tell you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is still early in the timeline of this series where Fox is super uncomfortable about lying for Obi-Wan in his paperwork. 
> 
> He gets over it later on.
> 
> Warning for a bit of angst. But there's a hug!

Fox woke with a start.

He was lying face-up on something soft, the ceiling of the room foreign and unfamiliar. This wasn’t the Guard barracks. There was a permanent stain on their ceiling from that time Thorn catapulted a spoonful of fruit jello up there purely for shits and giggles.

“Finally awake, commander?” A smooth voice asked. He recognized that voice. It was Senator Kenobi.

Fox flailed off the couch and landed awkwardly on his front, the codpiece of his armor pinching the sliver of skin between his thigh and crotch. He bit down on the grunt of pain and curled in on himself a little, eyes watering.

“Are you alright?” Kenobi set aside his datapad and crouched down next to his prone body. Fox closed his eyes. Fuck it, he wasn’t going to make it past the crippling embarrassment. Maybe the senator would just go away if he quietly pretended to be dead for a while.

Kenobi took a seat next to him on the carpet. “I can hear you breathing in there, Commander Fox.”

“Where am I?” Fox sighed in defeat. He had an inkling.

“My apartment,” The Naboo senator said calmly. He glanced at Fox, who had reluctantly dragged himself upright.

“How did I get here?” He asked, checking the messages in his comm. For once in his life, it was empty.

“How long has it been since you last slept?” Kenobi said, the quiet disapproval clear in his mellow voice.

“That doesn’t concern you, senator,” Fox said impatiently, making to stand. “You acted out of line when you removed me from my post.”

“You collapsed during your shift. I found you in the medical wing,” The auburn-haired man narrowed his eyes. The effect was surprisingly menacing for someone who was wearing only cream-colored silk pajamas. “Have you been avoiding me, Fox?”

“No,” He lied automatically.

“You have,” Kenobi accused, “I haven’t seen you in days!”

“Senator, there are hundreds of politicians on Coruscant at any given moment,” He pointed out, “I run the entirety of the Coruscant Guard unit. It is completely within the realm of possibility for—”

“Thire told me you switched shift schedules with him.”

_That kriffing traitor._

“Why are you avoiding me, commander?” He pressed, “Have I done something to offend you?”

Fox kept his jaw stubbornly clenched. The seconds ticked on between them as the uncomfortable silence stretched. Kenobi’s face fell. He looked a little hurt as he rose to his feet, “Apologies if I have.”

Fox reached out without thinking and caught the senator’s wrist. Kenobi paused expectantly.

“I can’t work with you,” He let out a frustrated breath and confessed. He lowered his gaze, “you talked me into changing that incident report. I lied on an official document.”

“I was trying to protect you and Thorn, commander,” Kenobi interrupted, sitting back down on the carpet next to him. Fox snatched his hand back and curled it in his lap. His face felt hot with shame.

“I don’t want to be a part of whatever political game you’re playing, sir,” Fox babbled, “I-I can’t keep compromising my morals to fit your agenda. That’s not how I work. I may not know everything, but I’m a good soldier.” His voice finally cracked repeating the words that were all but carved into his skull, “I follow my orders and I'm loyal to the Republic.”

“Good soldiers also listen to their hearts,” Kenobi’s eyes were sad when he brushed a gentle thumb over the scratch marks in the white plastoid over Fox's chest. “What does yours tell you?”

Fox’s heart told him a lot of things. Screamed at him sometimes. But he didn’t trust it. Good soldiers always—

 _Remember your place, commander,_ The Chancellor had told him so many times Fox lost count.

 _Remember your place and you might just survive,_ Fox heard the very real threat behind the words loud and clear. There had been five clone commanders before him that had held his position in the Coruscant Guard. They were all dead, one even executed for treason against the Republic. Fox’s term as the head of the military police force was now longer than any of his predecessors, and a small part of him was terrified of the inevitable.

Kenobi placed his palms against the sides of Fox’s helmet. His hands moved automatically and seized the senator’s bare wrists. He didn’t dare apply any pressure but Fox hoped Kenobi understood his strong aversion.

“May I please see you?” The senator asked, forever in that gentle tone that made Fox’s chest ache. He didn’t reply, kept his head bowed and eyes screwed shut.

“I need an affirmative answer, Commander.”

 _“No,”_ He choked out, his labored breath painfully loud in the isolated chamber of his helmet.

What was there to see? He looked exactly like the rest of the clone troops Kenobi interacted with on a daily basis.

“Alright,” Kenobi exhaled heavily, his hands falling away. Fox didn’t let go.

 _“Don’t,”_ He blurted out before his brain could stop his mouth.

Oh, fuck.

Then arms wrapped around his shoulders and the static-y view from his HUD was completely obscured by Kenobi’s silk pajamas. Fox realized two very crucial things after a confused pause during which the panicked fog in his head dissipated. One, that the senator was attempting to hug him, and two, his bucket was firmly planted in the man’s chest.

That could not be very comfortable.

“You know, this would be so much easier if you weren’t armed to the teeth and stiff as a board,” Kenobi muttered, shifting against him. “Is that a blaster poking me in the side or—”

“Yeah, it’s my blaster,” Fox sighed, adjusting his slipping kama so the weapon holster wasn’t digging into the senator’s hip. It kept randomly falling off after Wolffe had ripped it last time they butted heads on Kashyyyk. He should probably put in paperwork for a new replacement. The annoying equipment malfunctions were starting to affect his job performance, especially after his kama flew off in the middle of a high-speed chase and knocked out a nearby civilian.

“You should probably let go,” Fox advised Kenobi after a pause.

“Is that really what you want?”

“No,” He admitted, finally honest with himself this time, “but my leg is starting to cramp.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I mentioned in the comments, the medics didn't take off Fox's helmet. So Obi-Wan hasn't seen his face yet.


	7. Fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stared down at the report form on his datapad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly did not expect to write Fox so much? But I love him! Lol. Poor guy didn't even show his face once in TCW. But I guess that's where writers can work their imagination...
> 
> Anyway, there's a time loop fic about Commander Fox I'm writing, so check it out if you love him like I do. I'm super excited about posting more.
> 
> My headcanon for Fox's appearance is in End Notes.

He stared down at the report form on his datapad.

Fox had filled out the relevant details. All he needed to do was press send and the Chancellor would be informed of the fabricated incident report he had submitted a weeks ago. He would likely be demoted as punishment, but it was the right thing to do. Fox was compromised. He had purposefully ignored the Chancellor’s best interests in order to protect a man he’d barely known a little more than a month.

The problem was, Fox knew he would probably do it again if Kenobi asked. And that meant he was a security risk, something he detested with every fiber of his being. He had to report himself. There was no alternative. The Chancellor and the Republic always came first.

Fox’s finger hovered over the submission button.

 _Do it,_ his brain said, but his heart…

Fox flinched at the sudden spike of noise when his wrist comm flared to life in the silent office and gritted his teeth in irritation. It was a priority alert message from Thire about an emergency personnel swap on a diplomatic mission assignment. Stone, who was scheduled to go, had to drop out at the last minute. Thire was asking him to approve another commander to replace the vacancy.

Fox skimmed the description of the trip and felt his chest tighten. Kenobi was to take a Jedi escort and two Coruscant Guards to speak with the Gungan High Council on behalf of the Republic and update them on the war efforts. Thire had originally assigned Thorn and Stone. Now there was a spot open.

He shouldn’t, but he wanted to.

Fox keyed in his CC number and signed off on the updated document.

 _One last indulgence,_ Fox decided. He would allow himself this one indiscretion before sending in that report.

“Got it, Fox,” Thire said over the comlink once he received the attachment, “safe trip.”

* * *

Of course something would go wrong whenever Kenobi was involved. That was obvious by now. A part of Fox liked the idea of charging into danger with his guns blazing. Shoot first and ask questions later. But he was pretty sure that was a genetic thing bred into the clones, the instinctual violent caveman urges that Wolffe and the other GAR troopers channeled so well. It usually led to massive piles of post-incident paperwork on Fox’s end though, so he tried to reign in his boys as much as possible. It made things easier for senior command, not that any of them ever thanked him for his thoughtfulness.

The accompanying Jedi was Monnk’s general. It was strangely jarring to see Kit Fisto looking so serious. The signature smile was absent from the Jedi’s face and he was fully clothed for a change, the beige material of his robes drawn up to his throat. He had swapped out the usual brown bands in his head tresses for black ones. Something didn’t feel right, but Fox was grateful for the formality nonetheless. Fisto’s usual lighthearted banter irritated him beyond words. They spent the first part of the mission in peaceful silence, the Jedi meditating in the background and Fox doing his paperwork while Thorn entertained Kenobi with light conversation.

He finished perusing and denying the 212th’s request for jetpacks on the ride to Naboo. Fox had approved Wolffe’s forms after a lost bet, and now the other commanders had caught on and were bombarding him with request forms. Cody’s reasons were pretty persuasive, but still, the Wolfpack had way less men than the 212th. The current budget did not permit such waste, not after Fox had grudgingly allowed Torrent Company to get their upgrades as well.

The Gungan cities were underwater. Fox knew from information on the Holonet, but it was still an impressive sight to behold. He and Thorn spent their downtime observing the fish and aquatic life outside the domes while the Senator and Kit Fisto had their meeting with the Gungan High Council.

The entourage took a native submarine up to the surface. Kenobi chatted with Thorn while Fox tried his best to blend in with the backdrop of the ship. He kept hearing snippets of their conversation. Apparently Senator Padmé Amidala was due to give birth any day now.

“Wait, does that mean you’re going back to Naboo once Senator Amidala recovers?” Thorn asked the dreaded question.

“To be honest, I’m not sure,” Kenobi answered, his voice quiet, “Padmé is the official representative of Naboo. My original plans were only to serve as temporary replacement.”

Fox clenched his fists in his lap. Thorn made a small sad noise behind his bucket, and Kenobi patted him on the back of his gloved hand.

“I mean, she’s great,” Thorn explained, “it’s just…” He glanced at Fox, “we all really enjoyed working with you, Senator.”

“And I you,” Kenobi said warmly, “you boys have been so kind to me these past weeks.”

“You could ask her for an extension,” Thorn suggested eagerly, “or maybe talk to the Chancellor.”

“Inappropriate, Commander Thorn,” Fox reprimanded, annoyed at his teammate’s dogged determination.

The senator opened his mouth to reply when their submarine suddenly rocked violently. Fox’s arm instinctually shot out to steady the man.

“Thank you, commander,” Kenobi said, but Fox was already turning to address the Gungan operating the sub.

“What was that?”

“Turbulence,” He flapped a clawed hand at them and dismissed cheerfully. Hopper, Wolffe’s pilot, leaned in and shook his head, “that didn’t feel like turbulence to me, sir.”

“It wasn’t,” Kit Fisto rose gracefully to his feet and wandered over, “I believe we have caught the interest of a sea creature.”

Not two seconds after he uttered those words, a row of sharp serrated teeth punched through the thick transparent hull of the submarine. Kenobi ducked as streams of ice-cold ocean water seeped into their dry interior. Fox cursed in Mando’a and spun them around so that most of the water landed on his armored back.

“We need to get out of here,” He muttered, glancing at the Jedi, “General Fisto, how far are we from the surface?”

“A few minutes’ swim,” Kit replied, already shedding his layers.

“Alright, you take the senator up,” Fox ordered. "You, Gungan,” He snapped, pointing at the incompetent creature, “help me get my men out.”

The water was already knee-high. They didn’t have a lot of time left. Kit pulled out his lightsaber and moved to the opening hatch. Kenobi’s expression was tense, copper hair plastered wetly to his forehead. Fox took a deep breath to steady his nerves and unsealed his bucket. He placed it over the senator’s head. It obscured the man’s eyes, but he could feel Kenobi’s gaze on his bare face.

“There’s a limited oxygen reserve in there,” Fox explained, “It’ll probably last you fifteen minutes.”

“Fox,” Kenobi started, his fingers catching Fox’s plastoid vambraces, “I’m not leaving without—”

“Go, I’m right behind you,” Fox promised, giving him a gentle shove. He nodded at Kit.

“Sir,” Thorn took his own bucket off, “use mine.”

“I’m a better swimmer than you, vod'ika,” Fox reminded, hurriedly stripping out of the heavier pieces of his armor. The boys could afford to move a bit slower with their helmet reserve. Fox had to make sure he could get to the surface before his lungs gave out. He shoved Thorn and Hopper in front with the Gungan and signaled for Fisto to break the hatch.

Ice-cold water rushed in the moment Kit shoved the metal apart with the Force. Fox’s eyes stun from the salt but he willed his body not to react. Panic now would mean death. One by one, they exited the sinking craft. He caught sight of the dark, eel-like creature slinking away into the darkness. Hopper was now fully out of the collapsing submarine. He was the last one inside.

Fox managed to slip one leg out before the warping material of the ship caught on, pinning his other leg between the crumpling hull. Cracked plastoid was the only thing keeping the mounting pressure from crushing his ankle. Their mangled Gungan submarine came to a stop against a rocky outcrop. Fox bent down and tried to pry the two pieces apart, but the effort was futile.

He was stuck.

Fox experienced a brief moment of blinding fear, but it faded just as fast as it had come. People only panicked and struggled when they honestly believed they had a fighting chance. Hope, Fox has learned in his short years, was a thing best left to people in others fields of work. Besides, he had done his job. Kenobi was safe. It was all that mattered.

There was no light down in this depth. It was crushingly cold and quiet.

His lungs were starting to burn.

White spots danced in front of Fox’s eyes.

He was going to die down here, but at least Fox didn’t have to submit that report now.

Something moved in the corner of Fox’s blurred field of vision. Maybe the eel was back for its snack. Then, a soft hiss, and blinding green light erupted a few feet away, illuminating Kit Fisto’s face.

The gill-like slits near the Jedi’s temples fluttered as he surged forward and pressed his mouth to Fox’s tightly shut lips. A few bubbles escaped between them. Fox opened his mouth and gulped down the breath of air. Metal shifted around his ankle, bringing a sharp stab of pain before it loosened its hold. Fisto’s arms snaked beneath his armpits as he drew Fox’s limp body tightly against his own.

 _Hold on,_ A ghostly voice echoed in Fox’s oxygen-deprived brain.

The Jedi kicked his legs and they shot upward through the water. Fisto kept a hand at the base of Fox’s neck to cushion his spine at the sudden acceleration.

He sucked in a wet shuddering breath the moment they surfaced, coughing harshly as water streamed down the wrong pipe.

“Easy, don’t inhale the water into your lungs,” Kit instructed in his ear, shielding Fox’s face from a choppy wave as he towed them to the closest piece of dry land. Fox’s legs were shaking too hard to properly stand, so he had to experience the stinging humiliation of Fisto slinging him over one broad green shoulder like a limp, wet sock-puppet. Fox was grateful for the rescue, but he was also pretty sure the hand on his ass was not a necessary part of carrying him to shore.

“Where’s the senator?” He rasped, pushing the sopping brown curls out of his face and squinting up at the man after Kit set him down on the warm sand. The Nautolan Jedi Master towered over Fox, blocking out the sun.

“Senator Amidala’s water broke just now,” Kit said, cocking his head to one side as he peered back at Fox, “I advised them to take the ship to the palace while I doubled back for you.”

“You’re not going to eat me, are you?” Fox asked suspiciously. You could never tell with the non-human species. Master Ti used to flash her fangs at them and threaten to eat the misbehaving shinies on Kamino. She had been teasing, of course, but Fox always had his suspicions. After all, what normal woman wore the teeth of their prey as jewelry?

“No,” Kit crouched down so that they were uncomfortably close. “But you do have stunning eyes, commander.”

“It’s a genetic defect,” Fox rolled said eyes and leaned away from him, “Having different colored eyes is nothing special.”

“Maybe not to you,” Fisto murmured, “but I find them quite beautiful. One brown and one blue, a blend of earth and sky.”

“Thanks?” He could feel heat rising to his cheeks. This was why Fox preferred having his helmet on at all times.

Kark. His helmet.

“Does your comm still work?” He asked the Jedi. “We need to give Thorn an update and inform them I’m not fish food.”

“What comm?” Kit returned, holding both arms up. He was only wearing boots and soaked beige pants that were plastered to his ass and legs. Fox carefully kept his gaze above-belt. Kit stuck a hand in his face and said, “come, Commander Fox. We have a long trek ahead of us.”

“Is it too late to throw myself back in the ocean?” He sighed, letting the Jedi pull him to his feet. Fox’s regulation blacks were cold and sticky from the salt water, his back side caked with wet sand. He prayed none of it got into his pants. Otherwise, walking would be a chafing nightmare.

“What, you don’t enjoy my company, darling?” Fisto threw him a roguish wink.

“What gave me away?” Fox deadpanned, reluctantly following Kit up the beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my headcanon of Fox’s features is that he has what we know as heterochomia, which means he has different colored irises, one blue and one light brown. He doesn’t think it’s special or anything, but he does get a lot of compliments about his eyes (which Fox kind of hates unless it’s from someone he likes, so basically nobody). He also has another little genetic variation that I will mention in a later chapter. 
> 
> As for hair, I imagine the sides being super short, but he likes to keep the top longer (little bit of a vanity thing). He usually puts product in and combs it back, but on rare occasions, Fox lets Wolffe pet his head because it’s so soft and curly without the stuff he puts in it. He doesn’t have any tattoos on his face (but he does have tattoos). He doesn’t maintain facial hair either, so it makes him look younger compared to his batch brothers. 
> 
> (And yes, Wolffe will end up losing his eye in this verse, so he and Fox will sort of match later on.)
> 
> Obi-Wan didn't want to leave them behind, but Kit has the higher authority in the mission.


	8. Fox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Padmé is married to Palo Jemabie in this verse. He's a human male she had a brief crush on in canon when she was really young. She said he had curly hair and dreamy eyes I think. 
> 
> So, he's basically her childhood sweetheart and is still a high-ranking politician in Naboo instead of becoming an artist (like in canon).

“What do we do?” Hopper leaned in to whisper in Thorn’s ear. “I think we broke the senator.”

Kenobi hadn’t said a word since the starfighter took off. They’d landed a few minutes ago, but he was still sitting in the back of the ship, Fox’s scratched helmet cradled in his arms, expression vacant.

“Should we have waited?”

“No,” Thorn decided, gritting his teeth. “It was a direct order. The jetti outranks Senator Kenobi in terms of military command.”

Hopper cleared his throat, “Do you think Commander Fox…”

“He’s not dead,” Thorn snapped, wincing when Kenobi looked up at his elevated voice. He softened his tone and added apologetically, “I’m sorry, sir, but we had our orders.”

“Of course,” Kenobi murmured, damp hair falling into red-rimmed eyes. “You did nothing wrong, Commander Thorn.”

“Obi-Wan!” A loud, panicked shout from the other end of the massive hanger caught their attention. Thorn turned and found a tall, brunet man in dark robes running toward them, his handsome face ghastly pale and coated in what looked suspiciously like porridge. “My poor wife, she’s in labor. I-I need you there!”

“Palo, what happened?” Senator Kenobi rose to his feet. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Padmé threw a bowl of oats at me,” He admitted, blushing scarlet, “I may have freaked out when her water broke in the middle of lunch.”

“Ah,” Kenobi said, biting his lip. His eyes fell to the helmet in his arms. “Right. Padmé.”

“You should go, sir,” Thorn said quietly. Kenobi nodded, his expression smoothing out as he walked past the two clone troopers. Senator Amidala’s husband was still wringing his hands in distress and hadn’t noticed the weird atmosphere in ship.

“Tell Fox to come find me,” The senator ordered, lifting the helmet, “I’m holding onto this until he does.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What do we do now?” Hopper asked when the men departed, leaving them alone in the empty hanger bay.

“We wait,” Thorn muttered, taking a seat inside the ship. He grimaced as his soggy blacks squelched unpleasantly beneath the salt-sticky armor. Hopper heaved a long sigh and joined him. They stared off into the distance for a while. Thorn drummed his fingers restlessly against his thigh. Hooper’s foot twitched.

“You thinking what I’m thinking, vod?” Thorn asked.

“Going back for them? Yeah.”

“We’d be breaking half a dozen rules,” Thorn muttered, shifting, “Fox would probably drown me in paperwork."

He tapped his comm and watched as it flickered back online. The water had mostly dried at this point. Zero messages from the suicidal asshole that called himself Thorn’s boss.

“Alright, screw orders,” He shot to his feet, “we’re doing this.”

Hopper nodded. “I’ll start the pre-flight checks.”

* * *

“This is ridiculous,” Fox said, wiping stinging sweat out of his eyes as he trudged after the other man, “can’t you, I don’t know, Jedi us there?”

“The Force does not work like that,” Kit paused in his steps, the corner of his lips lifting briefly as he glanced back at the struggling commander, “You could take off your shirt if the heat is too much.”

Fox rolled his eyes. “Not in a million years.”

“Pity.”

Definitely laughter in his voice now. Kit Fisto was an odd thing, if Fox were to be honest. Not obnoxious in the vein-popping sense like Quinlan Vos, and not antiquated and stuffy like the Jedi on the other end of the spectrum.

Quick wit and an even quicker smile. 

“Why did you order them to leave instead of waiting the four extra minutes it took for you to drag me out of the ocean, sir?”

“None of that stuffy ‘sir' nonsense with me,” The Jedi said, flapping a hand in his direction, “call me Kit.”

“I would prefer not to, General Fisto,” Fox refused stiffly.

“Monnk mentioned you were a stickler for rules, commander,” He shook his head with a rueful smile. “I wanted a chance to speak with you alone.”

“About what?”

The Jedi stopped abruptly in his tracks. Fox stumbled into him. The sky had darkened during their difficult trek and stars were glimmering like diamonds overhead. The Nautolan master’s skin was a pale gray in the soft moonlight.

“Do you know that everyone has a Force signature?” Fisto asked. The question was so random. Fox blinked up at the man. The Jedi was a good head taller than him. He found their height difference very irritating.

“Uh, I do now.”

He smiled. “Each is uniquely different, commander. And yes, before you ask, we can tell the troopers apart by their signature alone.”

“Wouldn’t that be distracting? Sensory overload?” Fox asked absently, shoving past the man and resuming their journey.

“Yes, which is why the Jedi train at a young age to block them out,” Fisto trailed after him with a soft hum of agreement, “you are wondering what the point of this conversation is, aren’t you?”

Fox didn’t deny that observation.

“Yours is exceedingly bright, commander,” The Jedi said quietly, “and so…filled with pain and self-loathing.”

He froze in his steps.

“Why is that?” Kit Fisto asked.

The simmering anger that was never distant these days flared back to life in Fox’s chest. He met Fisto’s dark eyes. There was no judgement there, but somehow that made it worse.

“Is that an order, sir?” He asked coldly. The Jedi frowned.

“No.”

“Then I respectfully decline to answer,” Fox muttered, clenching his jaw, “You’re not my brother, and we are not friends.”

“Can’t we be?”

He snorted incredulously. “Why would you want that?”

“Why is that out of the realm of plausibility?” Kit asked doggedly, keeping up with Fox’s quick strides with annoying ease.

“You bother to ask a landspeeder for its life story?”

“You’re not a transportation tool, commander,” Fisto sounded comically offended.

“Right, because they’d at least try to fix up a broken landspeeder before tossing it to the scrap pile,” Fox agreed with a sneer, “don’t pretend you care, sir. We don’t need pity. I know we’re expendable.”

“Not to me,” Kit caught his wrist, “and not to the Jedi Order.”

“Permission to speak my mind, sir,” Fox bit out.

“You never have to ask me for permission to speak your mind,” Came the soft reply.

“Your Order is a joke,” He said bluntly, “Do you know how many of my brothers die everyday under your command? Probably not. I’m the one that has to sign off on all the death reports. They go through me. I oversee the cremation for the bodies recovered, while the rest is left to rot in the battlefield. Then, I’m expected to give a speech to the new order of troops from Kamino, feed them some fake senseless sentiment about how serving the Republic is the highest honor and send them off to their deaths in the GAR. And you ask why I’m not smiling and skipping like a school child.”

“I—”

“Don’t apologize,” Fix dismissed, wrenching his hand free from the Jedi’s loose grip, “It’s our job. That’s just how life is. If this war wasn’t raging, we wouldn’t even exist.”

“Who has the most fatalities?” Fisto asked after a depressing silence.

“Pong Krell. His incident rate is through the roof,” Fox sighed and shoved his hair out of his eyes again, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s killing them himself.”

“These incident reports, commander,” The Jedi murmured, “may I see them when we get back to Coruscant?”

“ _If_ we get back, sure,” Fox shrugged, “not like I have the clearance to refuse. You can request copies through the Records and References Office on the fifteenth floor of the Senate Admin building.”

“Or I could just camp out in your office and refuse to leave until you pull them up for me,” Kit wondered aloud, casting a sly glance his way.

“Why do you all hate going through the proper channels and filing corresponding paperwork?” Fox threw up his hands in frustration, “the system is in place for a reason. It makes everyone’s life easier. Why am I even wasting my breath? The Jedi never listen anyway.”

“Did you really throw Quinlan Vos back into holding for not submitting his undercover documents?”

“Who told you that?”

“Monnk. I’ve heard many of your legendary exploits from my commander.”

“Those are all filthy lies,” Fox dismissed without missing a beat.

“Well, I fully support you arresting Quinlan,” Kit said, “he probably deserved it.”

“Alright, my turn to ask the questions,” Fox interrupted, feeling an odd rush of bold recklessness, “Why were you upset earlier? You know, before we boarded the ship to Naboo.”

“Excellent observation skills, commander,” Fisto commented after a pause. He lowered his gaze to the glowing moss scattered beneath their feet, “my former padawan died.”

“That’s a baby Jedi, right?” Fox didn’t interact with the Jedi much in his line of work, and even less with the tiny apprentices that he’d spotted following some of the older space monks around on Coruscant, with their beige robes and bouncing braids. The only one Fox knew was a cheerful little redhead named Cal that always bowed to him whenever they crossed paths on Coruscant.

“Yes,” Kit nodded morosely, “but I think I lost him long before that.”

“What do you mean?”

“This war has done terrible things to everyone but mostly to the children,” He said, “I should have paid more attention to Nahdar’s mental well-being instead of focusing on his saber skills. He was impatient to help with the war efforts. Nahdar was not ready to be a Knight, yet I approved him anyway. My mistakes led to him and Commander Fil losing their lives.”

“Not your fault,” Fox told him. They’d finally cleared the patchy trees and found themselves in a much easier-to-navigate grassy field. There were a few distant shadows that Fox hazarded to guess were sleeping animals. “You didn’t kill them, the Separatists did.”

“I helped.”

“That's not the same as pulling the trigger,” Fox said impatiently, turning to the man, “if it makes you feel any better, I’ve done much worse.”

“Why would that make me feel better?” Fisto asked, alarmed concern clouding his expression. They’d come to a stop in the grass. Fox could feel the phantom tickle of the soft green blades against his legs.

“Because I know a monster when I see one, and you’re not one,” He clapped the Jedi general on the arm. “Tell me we’re close to something. I’m about to drop dead from exhaustion.”

“Let’s rest for a while here,” Kit decided, long fingers latching onto Fox’s wrist again and pulling him down to sit on the soft damp ground. He muffled a yawn into his palm. They’d been walking for hours and it was only now that the fatigue of the near-death experience finally caught up to Fox.

“You’re not a monster either,” Monnk’s general declared solemnly. His eyes were huge in the dim light of the moon. They made him look younger than his actual age. Fox wasn’t sure how long Nautolans lived, but it was probably safe to say a lot longer than clones.

“I killed my own brothers.”

Fox didn’t know why he was telling Fisto this, but it was better this way. He’d get the usual horrified reaction and they’d never have to cross paths again. A clean end, like a blaster shot to the heart. The Jedi cocked his head to the side at that announcement, but his face betrayed nothing.

“Why?” Kit asked.

“They committed war crimes against the Republic,” He gritted out, “the review committee marked them for termination.”

“What review committee?”

“The one that the Chancellor heads,” Fox muttered, swiping a shaky hand over his face. He didn’t understand why Kit Fisto wasn’t recoiling in disgust. “There’s a Kamino representative and a few other senators.”

“How many have there been?”

“One hundred and seventy five since I took over as the head of the military police,” Fox murmured, “the guy prior to me assigned the task to the senior command, but I couldn’t do it. Better me than those idiots.”

“Is that why you tattooed all those CT-numbers onto your skin?” Kit inquired, reaching over and tracing a finger over the sliver of ink peeking out from beneath his sleeve. “I saw when we were underwater.”

“It’s stupid, I know. I detest tattoos,” He pulled back his soggy blacks and shrugged, “but someone’s gotta remember them. We already live such short lives, and I robbed them of what little time they had left.”

Fox touched the crooked line near his wrist. He had been drunk when he put that first number there. The lines had cleaned up over time. Fox was a quick study with everything he put his mind to. Being ambidextrous also helped.

“See?” He glanced up at the Jedi with a self-deprecating smile, “told you I’ve done much worse.”

“Oh, my dear commander, this is a not a competition,” Fisto murmured sadly. Then, he did something odd. The Jedi put a hand to the nape of Fox’s neck and gently drew him in.

“What are you doing, sir?” He asked when Kit pressed their foreheads together.

“We will take a moment to grieve the loss of your brothers, Fox,” He decided, the other hand settling against Fox’s tense jaw, “but only one. Then, you are going to let them, and all the guilt and pain, go.”

“Is that an order, general?” He asked weakly.

Kit let out a quiet huff, “it is a wish, not a command, darling.”

 _You are so strange, you know that?_ He projected at the Jedi.

“In a good way, I hope,” Fisto whispered.

Fox considered it briefly. 

“Maybe." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I read somewhere that Nautolans were a very cheerful race, so I assume that Kit does not dwell on sad things in his past. 
> 
> And yes, Kit is going to deal with Krell. I loved the Umbara arc in terms of storytelling, but God, Pong Krell was such an EVIL DICK. He's gotta go. 
> 
> Also, can someone explain the Fox boobies thing to me? What does that mean? Someone told me about it and I was so confused. His character design looks super lean and compact in TCW. (Haha, now I understand. Thanks for the explanations, guys!!!)


	9. Fox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was an issue with posting this chapter, I thought I had it out already but it didn't go through???? Anyway, here it is.

Kenobi was standing alone on the open balcony overlooking one of the lavish royal palace gardens when Fox dragged himself up to the man’s temporary quarters. Fisto had pulled the two troopers away before Fox could chew them out for disobeying the Jedi’s orders and acting in flagrant violation of GAR regulations. He was almost dead on his feet from exhaustion, but Fox’s first thought was still to critically assess the room and plan escape routes accordingly.

“She had twins,” Kenobi remarked without turning, “Palo will have his hands full when Padmé returns to Coruscant.”

Ah, yes. The arrangement on Coruscant was always meant to be temporary. How Thorn has thought Kenobi could possibly stay long-term was laughable. He had other duties to attend to on Naboo.

“I guess this is goodbye then, sir.”

“Yes, goodbye,” The man murmured. Fox kept his gaze resolutely on the floor until cool fingers caught his jaw and lifted his face. Kenobi’s blue eyes were blazing. Anger, frustration, Fox couldn’t tell.

“You give up so easily, Fox.”

The hand fell away.

“I suppose that is not your fault, commander,” He continued, “you were trained that way, to think yourselves as lesser beings. Legally speaking, you are. Coruscant rules governing its citizens do not apply to the clones.”

Fox gritted his teeth and kept his silence.

“And yet the Republic Senate has the gall to ask you to die on behalf of a government that does not even recognize you as human beings,” Kenobi let out a broken little laugh, “I am one of them, one of the ruthless hypocrites ordering you to your deaths just so I can keep luxuriating in my privilege.”

“You’re not,” Fox blurted without thinking.

“Why? Because I bothered with basic decency?” He asked, shaking his head, “you ask for so little.”

“It’s not my place to make demands, sir,” Fox said dully.

“But it is mine, as a representative of the people,” Kenobi sighed as he passed a hand over his haggard face, “Padmé was upset with my decision to postpone the Clone Rights Bill. She’s naive. Idealistic. Still believes in the goodness of people’s hearts.”

“Unfortunately, I do not,” He bit his lip and glanced at Fox, “I lean on the practical side. When I make a move, I expect to win. It’s served me well over my military career, but politics is sticky. A tangled mess at the best of times. You pull on one thread, the repercussions can be felt across a vast nebulous network. Coruscant politics is…much more complex than Naboo’s affairs. I must admit, I was reluctant to do anything to disturb the delicate balance when I first arrived. I wanted to wait and see, proceed with caution.”

“But you boys don’t have the luxury of time,” Kenobi grimaced, “there’s no light at the end of this tunnel. More problems will arise when the war ends and your value to the Republic cease to exist.”

“What are you saying?” Fox asked, meeting Kenobi’s eyes.

“I’m saying I am done not taking sides,” He said, placing a hand on Fox’s shoulder. “This might be a fool’s move on my part, seeing as you’re the Chancellor’s personal clone commander.”

“Sir…”

“I do not approve of Palpatine’s decisions regarding this war,” Kenobi murmured, “and I want him out of the office.”

Fox’s fingers clamped down around the man’s wrist, _“that’s treason against the Republic.”_

“I suppose,” He didn’t seem all that worried about Fox’s hostile reaction, “but that depends on your definition of the Republic, my dear. Is it one man or the billions of lifeforms inhabiting our planets?”

“Why are you telling me this?” Fox demanded, “you know I have to report this.”

“Because I had a good feeling about you the moment we met. That hasn’t changed, Fox,” Kenobi said with small sad smile, “so yes, you have a decision to make. My future in the Senate rests in your hands.”

* * *

_Two Weeks Later_

“One busted part,” The mechanic shook his head and heaved a sigh as he held up a blackened piece roughly half the size of Fox’s fist. “Just one tiny malfunction and the entire kriffing cargo freighter went up in flames.”

“That’s it?” Fox asked, amping up the filtration system in his bucket to keep the sharp chemical scent of smoke out. “It wasn’t, I don’t know, some Separatist attack?”

“No, sir,” The man grunted, handing the problematic bolt over to Fox, “things like this happen. Not often, but machines, they only run smoothly when all the pieces are working in tandem.”

“Right,” Fox stared down at the burnt metal, “uh, you can scrap the rest. I will send a crew over this afternoon to help.”

“Yessir,” The mechanic nodded, flashing him gold-capped teeth as he turned and whistled to his men. “Cleanup duty, boys!”

Fox pocketed the piece and climbed onto his speeder. It was a relief the crash hadn’t been caused by the enemy. He’d have to lock down the city if that had been the case, and all the rich nobility would lose their sipping-wine-on-the-balcony privileges for an entire week.

There was small boxed package on Fox’s desk when he arrived back at the office. A note with tiny, neat handwriting was attached to the top.

_Reminded me of your eyes. Thanks for pulling the Umbara reports for me. —K_

He unwrapped it to reveal an intricate crystal orb with blue and brown accents. There was a metal stand for it in the box. Fox set it on the shelf with the other odd tidbits he’d collected over the years. He pulled out the part from the freighter and set it next to Kit’s present.

_You are part of something so much bigger than yourself,_ the Chancellor had said.

His comlink buzzed, and Stone’s voice came on over the speakers, “Hey Fox, I need you down at the Senate building to approve some forms. Senator Amidala and the new Stewjon representative need their security clearance detail entered into the system.”

Fox had almost forgotten about Senator Amidala’s return to Coruscant.

“Copy that, I’ll be there in five,” He replied, rounding his desk and heading for the door. Fox paused on the threshold and glanced back at the black, soot-covered bolt sitting on his bookshelf.

It looked so plain and insignificant.

He doubled back to his desk and pulled out the datapad with the self-incriminating report he had filled a while back. Fox pressed the delete button and erased all data entry. He set the pad down and locked the door behind him.

The Senate administrative building was as busy as usual, crammed full of various politicians from across the Galactic Republic. He caught sight of Stone’s helmet from across the large atrium. The shock trooper commander was standing with two others, Senator Amidala in a long red gown with gold ripples along the bodice, her shiny brown locks done up in an elegant bun; the copper-haired man beside her—

Fox froze in his tracks.

Obi-Wan Kenobi smiled.

“I may have failed to mention that my mother’s a member of the Royal Family of Stewjon, Commander Fox,” He admitted, hands fluttering over the smoky blue of his expensive tunic, “and that my uncle was retiring from his role as the official liaison to the Republic.”

“Transitioning paperwork needs to be filed on the sixty-second floor, sir,” Fox said stiffly after he finally got his larynx to work again.

“Excellent,” Kenobi beamed, “Padmé, love, I will pop by your office once I get everything processed.”

“Of course,” She smiled sweetly back, “Commander Stone, will you escort me up?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Stone replied.

“Shall we?” Kenobi asked, taking a deliberate step into Fox’s personal space, his blue eyes sparkling with faint amusement.

There was a line at the public elevators, so Fox took him up through the Guards’ security lift. He didn’t expect Kenobi to press the emergency stop button somewhere on the twentieth floor and drag their journey to a jarring stop.

“You really have nothing to say to me,” He asked, peering at Fox through his HUD screen. “I’m here to stay, commander.”

There was moment of suspended silence between them before he moved, fingers clumsy as he fumbled his helmet off, letting it clatter to the floor of the elevator and reeling the startled senator into his arms. One of Kenobi’s hands found its way to the back of Fox’s head. He buried his face against the side of Obi-Wan’s neck and clung to him like a drowning man.

“Oh, dear one. Everything is going to be alright,” Kenobi murmured, and for the first time, Fox finally allowed himself to believe.

The lift shifted and began to move again. Someone must’ve overridden the controls from the outside, but Fox didn’t really want to think about that at the moment, not when Kenobi was petting his hair like this.

The doors swished open behind Fox.

“Morning, Commander Cody,” Obi-Wan called out mildly.

Kark it.

“Morning, sir,” Cody’s obnoxious voice said, “whatcha doing there, Fox?”

“Go away, Cody,” He muttered. The senator laughed quietly and tightened his arms around Fox.

“Perhaps you can take the next one, Commander,” Kenobi suggested lightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another hug!
> 
> So, Obi-Wan's mom is from Stewjon, but his dad is from Naboo. He's still considered from Naboo, but he votes on behalf of Stewjon in the Senate now. It solves the temporary assignment problem.
> 
> Note: No one was on the freighter. It’s a cargo ship. Sweet babies, that wasn’t an assassination attempt. There was a huge time jump, remember? Obi-Wan stayed on Naboo with Padmé the whole time. Should have mentioned Fox and Kit left early. Sorry for the mixup. I got so confused at the comments 😂
> 
> The broken part was supposed to be symbolic.


	10. Fox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's non-explicit mentions of violence on Umbara in this chapter. Be warned.

He and Obi-Wan did not cross paths for an entire week after the Naboo politician took over the Stewjon senate seat. Fox caught brief glimpses of him at various parties and dinners, always surrounded by throngs of people clinging to his every word.

He didn’t mind the sudden distance. Kenobi was...distracting at the best of times, and his presence dealt crippling blows to Fox’s efficiency and overall control over his subordinates. It was a nice break and he took full advantage establishing authority over the new batch of shinies that had just arrived from Kamino. Stone certainly fanned the flames of fear with his exaggerated legends about Fox’s ruthless deeds. One of the more gullible boys had literally burst into tears after accidentally making eye contact with Fox in the Guard Mess Hall two days ago. Stone was still bragging about it over the command chat.

His day was going great until Thire messaged him directly and told Fox to meet him down at medical immediately. The hallways were packed with soldiers, their armor blackened from blaster fire, sallow-faced and dead-eyed. Fox felt discomfort prickle under his skin at the sight of the unresponsive troopers as he pushed through the throng and saw the entire Coruscant Guard medical staff and quite a few off-duty GAR medics tending to the most severely injured. Butcher, Ghost Company’s medic, was still in his civies. He spotted Fox and waved a hand.

“What happened?” He asked as the man applied clean gauze over a trooper’s ruined eye. Fox caught a brief glimpse of the awful wound beneath. It looked suspiciously like someone taken a lightsaber to his face.

“No idea, sir,” Butcher sighed, tipping the clone’s head back and checking his pupillary response in the remaining eye. The trooper didn’t react at all when the medic shone the bright light in his lax face. “I was still sleeping when I got the systemwide alert. They’re part of the group that was sent as reinforcement to Umbara a few weeks ago.”

“Umbara?” Fox blinked. Monnk's Jedi had departed for Umbara two days ago. 

“Yeah, must’ve been brutal,” Butcher lowered his voice and leaned over to whisper in Fox’s ear, “Pope said a few of them took their own lives on the ride back.” He jerked his chin at the corner of the room where someone had piled the white body bags. Fox felt bile rise in his throat.

“Where am I?” The one-eyed trooper gasped raggedly and grasped Fox's arm, “where’s the Jetii? Quick, we have to hide!”

“You’re on Coruscant,” Butcher said hurriedly, trying and failing to calm the hysterical man, “you’re safe.”

“No, this is a mind trick. You don’t understand, he’s hunting us for sport. You have to tell the vode. It's him…” Blood bloomed over the clean gauze covering his eye. Fox caught his other hand and stepped in between the trooper’s struggling legs, pinning him to the examination table.

“Sedate him,” He ordered Butcher, who was already injecting the drug into the man’s neck. They laid the limp soldier back onto the bed. There was a streak of red on Fox's left vambrace. Butcher caught his wrist and cleaned it off with a wet wipe.

“What the hell is going on?” Fox asked.

“I don’t know, sir,” The 212th’s medic said, “but you should go. The medbay is crowded as it is.”

“Right,” He retreated a few steps, “I’ll, uh, get Thire to clear some of the lower levels in the Guard barracks to serve as temporary intake rooms.”

Butcher nodded, already turning his attention to the next patient, “Thank you, commander.”

* * *

He took a speeder bike to the Jedi Temple. Fox probably broke a few traffic regulations along the way, but none of the boys in red dared pull their boss over, so the trip took around half the time it usually did.

The Halls of Healing was considerably less packed than the clone medical building. They also had much better equipment and bacta tanks large enough to fit half a dozen of Fox’s brothers, but now was not the time to agonize over the unequal resource distribution. He needed to—

“May I help you?” The blonde healer at the front desk asked politely. She looked a bit startled, and Fox realized a few seconds too late just how out of place he probably looked standing there decked out in his Coruscant reds and still panting from the endless flights of stairs.

“Is General Fisto here?” He asked, heart in his throat.

“Yes, he is, but I can’t let you in without an appointment,” She said, sounding apologetic. “Do you have an appointment, commander?”

“No. I’m sorry, I acted without thinking,” He admitted after a pause. Fox found himself doing that a lot recently. He turning to leave when the young woman cleared her throat.

“Wait, commander,” She glanced swiftly around to make sure no one was watching before saying slowly, “I can’t let _you_ in, but I can let General Fisto’s clone commander in. If you have his ID, I could theoretically sign him in so you can visit your friend.”

* * *

  
There were four other senior Jedi Council members standing inside Kit Fisto’s private room. Through a slit in the curtain over the window, Fox could see him sitting on the edge of the bed. Kit was a few shades paler than his usual skin color, chest bared and heavily bandaged. Fox wasn’t a medic, but it was a relief the injuries weren’t too serious. At least he wasn’t missing any limbs or critical appendages as far as the eye could see. The tightly-wound knot of worry in his chest eased slightly.

Fox still had a million questions, but he supposed they could wait. It wasn’t as if he could burst in now. Fisto would probably find it amusing, but he doubted the others, especially Mace Windu, would agree.

Besides, Fox was still technically on-duty. So he left the way he came, not noticing when Kit paused in the middle of a sentence and glanced in his direction.

* * *

Come Primeday, the Chancellor summoned Fox up to his office early in the morning. He was surprised to find Senator Kenobi and Master Windu already waiting there. Obi-Wan’s expression was uncharacteristically somber.

“I assume you saw the press release sent out this morning, commander?” Palpatine asked. Kenobi folded his hands into his sleeves, indecipherable mask firmly in place.

“Yes, sir,” Fox replied. He glanced at Windu, “my condolences on General Krell’s passing. I am sorry we lost the Umbara outpost. His dedication to the war efforts is an inspiration to us all.”

The Jedi Master’s jaw visibly clenched at the polite, meaningless fluff.

“How are the troopers doing?” Kenobi asked.

“Tramatized, I think,” Fox informed them, “they’re barely speaking.”

“There was discussion of sending them back to Kamino for reconditioning, but I decided against that after an overview of our finances,” Palpatine said gravely, “perhaps we could find a better use for the poor soldiers in the maintenance levels, Fox.”

That basically meant the Umbara boys would never see the light of day again. Buried alive in a sense. Sent to work among the mindless droids keeping Palpatine’s bath water hot every day.

“Perhaps Kamino might still be on the table,” Obi-Wan murmured, stroking a hand over his mustache, “Master Shaak Ti mentioned there was a shortage of help on her end. Instead of sending the squadron of Coruscant Guards, we could transfer them to assist her,” He glanced at the Chancellor, “it would achieve the same effect and might even save us some extra costs.”

“The maintenance levels are currently fully stocked with engineer droids, sir,” Fox admitted.

Palpatine opened his mouth, but Windu cut in, “I would feel much better about this whole debacle if we went with the second option, Chancellor.”

A tense pause. Then, Palpatine smiled thinly and spread his palms, “very well. Commander Fox, I trust that you will personally oversee the transition paperwork.”

“Of course, sir.”

* * *

Fox was staring at the official press release pulled up on his datapad when a voice spoke up from the doorway of his office.

“It’s a lie. All of it.”

He glanced up and found Kit Fisto standing there. He wasn’t smiling.

“Shouldn’t you still be in the hospital?”

“I couldn’t stand lying there like an invalid anymore,” Kit admitted, “besides, it wasn’t that serious.”

“Rex’s general said you lost half of the blood in your body,” Fox said flatly, rounding his desk and pulling the idiot Jedi onto the sofa in his office. He eased shut the door.

“I hesitated when I shouldn’t have and paid the price,” Fisto winced minutely when he sat. Fox eyed the loose bandages peeking out from beneath the collar of his beige robes.

“When was the last time you got those changed?” He demanded, peeling back the material and clicking his tongue in disapproval. Kit made a startled noise and tugged his robes back up to his neck. Fox removed his bucket and lifted both eyebrows, “Seriously? Now you know what modesty is?”

He strode over to the locked drawer where he kept his drinks and medical supplies. Fox grabbed a roll of sterile bandages and a few bacta packs after removing his gloves and cleaning his hands. He disliked being in the medbay just as much as the Jedi in his office, so he’d bullied Pope into handing over some of the medical supplies.

“You have very steady hands, commander,” Kit complimented when Fox removed the soiled gauze and dressings.

“Thank you. Call me if you ever need a baby delivered in the middle of a war zone,” He muttered, pausing to assess the still-healing wounds. “I’m not a trained medic, but these look like lightsaber marks, sir.”

A beat of silence between them. Then, Kit said, “they are.”

There was a smaller bandage on his saber arm. Fox peeled that one back to reveal a puckered burn, result of a blaster shot.

“Did Pong Krell really die for the Republic?” He asked, careful to keep his tone neutral.

“When I arrived at the base,” Kit said instead, “it reeked of death and…despair. It was also empty. I didn’t understand what I was seeing until one of the troopers clipped me in the shoulder.”

“Training exercise misfire?” Fox asked. The Nautolan Jedi shook his head sadly.

“No, Krell was pitting them against each other,” He swallowed hard, “manipulating the two factions under his command and instigating hate and paranoia.”

“How?”

“I don’t know exactly, but Lieutenant Finn of the 98th told me they started finding troopers flayed open and hanging from branches,” Kit took a shuddering breath, “Krell convinced them there was a monster hiding amongst the clone soldiers, able to disguise itself as a fellow brother. But there was no monster. It was all him. I tracked Krell down and we fought. I had no choice.”

“I see.”

“When you came by to see me the other day,” He murmured, “I was telling the Jedi Council the truth.”

“Let me guess, they didn’t want anyone else finding out about it,” Fox replied, “It’s a smart move. Public opinion of the Jedi Order is at its lowest. You can’t afford something like this getting to the press. Turning him into a martyr will appease civilian anger and boost moral within the GAR.”

“Are you upset?” Fisto asked.

“Do I feel upset to you?” Fox jerked his chin at the Jedi's long head-tresses.

Pleasant surprise flitted over Kit’s face. “You’ve done your research, commander.”

Fox shrugged, “had to figure out who I was dealing with.”

“Well, you should be,” Fisto concluded solemnly, “nothing has changed from my actions. The war still rages on, the death toll continues to mount.”

“I don’t see it that way,” Fox said evenly, meeting the Jedi’s anguished gaze, “you killed one of your own for my brothers, for expendable clones. They are alive because of you. That means something, Kit. Maybe not to your Order, but it means something to _me._ ”

“You finally called me Kit,” He murmured, lips curving into a familiar smile.

“It’s your name, isn’t it?”

“I fear that I will turn into him one day,” The Jedi admitted in a small voice, “Pong Krell was not like this before the war. He was good, noble even. What if I—”

 _“You won’t,”_ Fox dismissed the notion immediately, “I mean, I would agree with you if we’re talking about Skywalker, but you’re not like Krell. In fact, I’d wager my life, sir.”

“Kit,” Kit insisted, tugging on his arm.

“Fine, _Kit,_ ” He corrected, “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re a saint compared to that impulsive moron Rex serves under.”

Kit snorted loudly at that remark, and then winced when the sudden movement pulled on his healing wounds. He shook his head, expression fond, “too late, Fox. It’s already gotten to my head. You like me.”

“I tolerate you at best,” Fox corrected, rolling his eyes. He glanced at the digital display on his desk and groaned, “and you are a colossal waste of my time.”

“May I stay for a while, commander?” Monnk’s Jedi asked politely.

“Yeah,” Fox shrugged, rising to his feet and grimacing at the ache in his knees, “don’t make any noise or distractions. I have a few hundred troopers to file transfer paperwork for by tomorrow morning.”

“Yessir,” Kit teased. 

He stuck to his promise and kept quiet while Fox edited the personnel files of the Umbara survivors and uploaded them back into the system. It was nearly midnight when he remembered there was another person in his office and glanced up to find Kit fast asleep on the couch, lying on his side and curled in on himself.

There was a blanket Fox kept in the closet with his spare armor and blacks for particularly grueling nights at the office. He pulled it out and carefully draped it over the sleeping Jedi. Fox rubbed a hand over his tired face, stifled his budding yawn, and went back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My poor babies. Master Ti will mom them back to semi-normal.


	11. Fox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lighter chapter! Enjoy and leave me a comment!

There was a round-faced child sitting crosslegged on Thorn’s bunk when Fox opened his eyes. He groaned and pushed himself upright.

“Good morning, Commander Fox,” Little Cal Kestis chirped cheerfully, flashing him a quick smile.

“Morning, Cal,” Fox muttered and ran a hand over his tired eyes. It wasn't a hallucination. The baby Jedi was still there, albeit a few feet closer and still watching him like a tiny hawk. “How did you get into the Guard Barracks?”

“Commander Stone let me in,” Cal informed him, helpfully handing Fox a pair of pants that definitely didn’t belong to him. He thanked the kid anyway and rolled out of bed in his boxers.

“You here looking for Thorn?” Fox asked once he was properly dressed. Thorn had a ridiculously number of strange friends, including some of the small Jedi in training and various citizens living on the lower levels of Coruscant.

“Yes, he promised to give the members of the Fire Dragon Clan a tour of the Senate buildings as per the field trip instructions,” Cal explained as Fox splashed some water over his face and tried to tame his messy bedhead into something presentable.

“Did you ask Stone to message him? He should be on-duty,” Fox muttered, glancing at the child and nearly inhaling his shaving cream when he found Cal folding his rumpled comforters like a stern old woman. “Cal, I can do that myself. You don’t have to—”

“It’s ok, I don’t mind helping out,” The boy said, fat cheeks wobbling as he expertly fluffed Fox’s pillow.

“Shouldn’t you be, uh, training or something?” Come to think of it, Fox didn’t really know what the Jedi apprentices did to become the real deal. He suspected it involved a lot of lightsaber exercises and meditation.

“My master is in the Halls of Healing, so I have a bit of free time on my hands,” The boy said, wandering over once he had folded everything on Fox’s bed into neat rectangles.

“Oh,” Fox said awkwardly. He wasn’t sure what Thorn and the kid did together. It seemed strange that they were even friends in the first place, but the senior commander could probably befriend a soggy turd if he put his mind to it. That was how much everyone liked Thorn.

“Are you ok? Why were you sleeping in?” The baby Jedi broke the silence, “did you have another meltdown?”

“What?” He frowned down at Cal, “who told you I had a meltdown?”

“Thorn says you’re always super stressed and he thinks you probably cry in the shower when no one’s around to hear.”

“Really?” Fox’s jaw clenched. “What else has he said about me?”

“That he’s worried you’ll die of complications associated with hypertension before you’re thirty,” Cal lifted a hand and ticked off the list of items, “or your hair will go white overnight due to stress, or you’ll ground your teeth so hard they turn to dust, or you’ll finally snap and shoot him in the face—”

“Yeah, inform him to be on the lookout for that last one there, Cal,” Fox gritted out as he shrugged on his armor. “And no, I did not have a meltdown. My traitorous subordinates forced me out of my office to take a break. I do not need a break. I am perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

He sucked in a deep breath after that mini-rant and glared down at the child. Cal lifted an eyebrow in such an uncanny resemblance to Obi-Wan Kenobi that Fox almost bit his tongue.

“I am putting my credits on the hypertension hypothesis,” He said, folding his small hands over the front of his beige robes.

“What credits? You’re like five years old,” Fox muttered under his breath as Cal took his gloved hand and pulled him out of the command barracks.

“I am actually ten,” The baby Jedi explained patiently, “I only appear younger because, as my master says, I am shorter than the average human boy and have adorable chubby cheeks.”

Fox didn’t know what the average height of ten-year-old human boys was, but Cal’s master wasn’t wrong about the cheeks.

* * *

“He’s late,” Mace Windu declared seriously.

It would have been more impressive and austere if there wasn’t a child busy gnawing on his elbow. Ponds, standing a few feet away with his helmet under one arm, glanced uneasily at Fox who sighed and said, “sir, I apologize for Commander Thorn’s tardiness. He is dealing with an emergency situation at the moment.”

He was lying to cover Thorn’s absent ass, but Windu didn’t need to know that.

“Well, he dodged a bullet with this lot,” The GAR High General sniffed, jerking his saliva-soaked sleeve away from the youngling with a mild grimace.

“General Windu, if you don’t mind I can take them through the tour,” Fox offered.

The Jedi frowned. “You are on your break, commander. It would be rude of me to interrupt a much-deserved rest.”

Fox blinked, “Sir, how did you—”

“Senator Kenobi sent out a message to all the Jedi generals and GAR commanders that you were not to be disturbed,” Windu’s mouth quirked up for a split second, “I hear from him that you have singlehandedly been keeping the Republic from imploding in on itself,” he glanced around at the busy yet organized senate district, “I have to say job well done, Commander Fox.”

Behind Windu, Ponds bit his bottom lip to hold back his amused smile. Cal shot Fox an impressed look. He felt his ears go hot under their combined scrutiny and cleared his throat, “Senator Kenobi exaggerates. It is no trouble at all, sir.”

“If you insist,” The Jedi murmured, glancing down at the members of the Fire Dragon Clan, “well, children, the Vice Chancellor awaits.”

They toured the main Senate building first. Fox led the entourage through the gleaming lobby and up to the Galactic Senate Chamber where Vice Chair Mas Amedda was waiting for them. He gave a little speech about the importance of democracy and introduced the bored younglings to the basic functions of the Senate. Fox tuned most of the propaganda out while he stood at parade rest next to Ponds.

“Any questions,” Amedda asked the group after his presentation ended.

A small human boy lifted his hand, “can we take a ride in one of those pods? Anakin says it's really fun.”

A murmur of excitement swept through Cal and the younglings. And just like that, the seeds of chaos were sown. Mace Windu’s mouth flattened into a disapproving line as the children turned their expectant gazes to a gobsmacked Mas Amedda.

“Maybe one of the lower ones,” He said after an awkward pause, his eyes flickering to Fox for help. Windu opened his mouth to object but the younglings were already wriggling onto a nearby senate pod. Mace glanced at the silent clone commanders and shook his head with a long sigh.

“We’ll keep an eye on them, sir,” Ponds reassured.

Happy giggles bounced off the walls of the convocation chamber as the dozen or so kids rose higher and higher on the pod with the reluctant Vice Chair.

“They’re a rowdy bunch,” Fox remarked, watching two of the smaller ones shoving at each other in the back.

“Allowing Skywalker to lead this clan was the biggest mistake of my career,” Windu said flatly, arms folded behind his back. “He’s gone and turned them feral.”

A small Twi’lek girl overbalanced and bumped into Amedda, causing the pod to veer sharply to the left. The two brawling in the back and a few others spilled over the shallow edge of the floating senate podium like loose kernels of corn.

Fox and Ponds caught two of the falling babies each while Mace Windu took care of the other three, suspending them in midair by the Force as the Vice Chancellor quickly piloted the rest of the younglings and Cal back down.

“Caleb, no!” Windu yelled suddenly, a rare edge of genuine panic in his voice. Fox followed his gaze and spotted that one Mon Calamari kid perched in Ponds’s arms, both arms wrapped around the clone commander’s neck and small hands pressed to bare skin. Fox could see the red rash forming when he wrestled the confused child out of Ponds’s weak grasp.

“I told you not to touch Commander Ponds,” Mace scolded, placing two wriggling younglings on the ground and rushing to Fox’s batch brother.

“I’m fine, sir,” Ponds wheezed. His throat was probably starting to swell shut, but he still made the Herculean effort to reassure the frightened youngling, “i-it’s ok, Caleb…”

“What is going on?” Amedda asked, retreating to a safe distance and eyeing little Caleb like he was the plague.

“My commander is allergic to seafood,” Windu muttered distractedly, cupping Ponds’ flushed face between his palms as he turned to Fox, “I’m taking him to the infirmary, Commander Fox. Please keep an eye on the Fire Dragon Clan until I send a replacement.”

“I…can g-go…myself, sir,” Ponds rasped, clutching at his Jedi’s pristine robes. “Just need the…world to stop spinning.”

“You’re turning purple, son,” Mace rolled his eyes and swept Ponds off his feet with the practiced ease of someone who had dealt with his crippling allergies many, many times in the past.

Caleb tugged on Fox’s visor and asked in dismay, “am I really seafood?”

He glanced at Cal, who didn’t seem very alarmed at Ponds's violent allergic reaction. Mas Amedda had escaped from the room. The Mon Calamari child blinked forlornly at Fox, lower lip wobbling.

“You’re technically not,” Cal mused, stroking his chin in thought, “but your skin secretes the same antigens as seafood.”

Fox paused to stare at him.

“What?” Cal shrugged, “I hang around medics a lot.”

* * *

They managed to usher the nine younglings out into a nearby park. It was like herding Loth-cats and Fox wanted nothing to do with them ever again after ten minutes of pure mind-numbing chaos. The babies kept trying to put random things into their mouths. Caleb had burst into tears on the way out of the Senate building and it was only after Fox gave him his bucket that he’d quieted down. He was currently sitting on the grass with Fox’s giant helmet hanging over his tiny shoulders, head occasionally dipping from the sheer weight of it. But at least he wasn’t wailing his lungs out anymore.

“Sorry I’m late!” A familiar voice shouted from across the road as Thorn hopped from his precariously parked speeder bike and raced over the grass toward them. He was covered in streaks of dried blood for some reason.

“What in kark’s name happened to you?” Fox hissed at him, “did you murder someone?”

“No,” Thorn panted, bending down to catch his breath, “I patched up a wounded guy on the lower levels.”

“Why were you on the lower levels in the first place?” Fox snapped, "you're not on patrol down there until the end of the month." 

“Hi Cal,” His second-in-command paused to smile at the padawan who had wandered over to greet him. Thorn dabbed at his sweaty forehead with an armored elbow, accidentally wiping a streak of dark blood over his brow. “Sorry, sir. I found him when I was bringing the orphans some food. Couldn’t just leave the man to die.”

“Fine, but don't make a habit of it,” Fox muttered, feeling the tiniest twinge of guilt for biting his head off.

The clone soldiers serving in the military police received a weekly allowance that they usually spent on booze and sex. Fox asked that most of his portion be put to good use upgrading old and malfunctioning equipment for the Guards, but Thorn usually spent his republic credits on food and clothes for the starving orphans scavenging the lower levels of Coruscant. It was nice to save some lives instead of taking them for a change. Besides, the chances of him dying on the job were so high that there was no point in saving the credits. Or at least that was Thorn’s explanation. He also had an irrational fear of prostitutes, which Fox hoped was not part of the decision-making process. Nevertheless, it was a noble endeavor.

“What happened here?” Thorn asked, peering around at the scattered younglings in confusion.

“The field trip was cut short. Ponds had another episode,” Fox sighed, shifting the Twi’lek girl against his chest so he could shake some blood back into his numb left arm. His comm buzzed. Fox peered down at the display. It was a message from the Coruscant Guard command chat.

CC-4477 (Thire): Meeting is officially in progress. Delta Team, be on standby in case there is enemy interference.

CC-3333 (Warden): Roger that.

CC-5869 (Rock): Guys...I’m almost 100% sure Senator Kenobi snuck a knife into the conference room.

CC-1010 (Admin): What?! Stone, I specifically told you to check everyone and confiscate all weapons.

CC-5869 (Rock): I did, and you’re supposed to be on break, angry boss man.

CC-1010 (Admin): How am I supposed to relax when you all keep screwing up like a bunch of incompetent morons?

CC-3333 (Warden): Ouch. Uncalled for, sir.

CC-5869 (Rock): He said he needed it for personal protection.

CC-1010 (Admin): He shouldn’t need personal protection from a knife. That’s what you're there for!!!

_“Commander Fox! Commander Thorn!”_

It couldn’t be. Fox felt his heart drop all the way down into his balls. Son of a kriffing—

“Anakin!” The flock of baby Jedi cheered as one.

Fox met Skywalker’s manic blue gaze from across the park and felt the exact moment the will to live not-so-peacefully exited his body.

“Hi, General Skywalker,” Thorn called out in oblivious cheer. "It's been a while!" 

Of-fucking-course Thorn was friends with the Chosen One. Like Fox said, he could even befriend a soggy turd if he put his mind to it.

“Are you the chaperone replacement?” He asked in a hollow, defeated voice.

“Yup,” Skywalker beamed, lifting one of the small boys to sit on his shoulders and ruffling the hair of another, “All this downtime is making me antsy. Really wish there was some action for a change.”

Fox personally could do with a little less action in his life, but two seconds after Rex’s Jedi spoke his cursed words, the left side of the nearest Senate exploded in a cloud of broken transparisteel.

“Yes!” Skywalker pumped a delighted fist into the air.

“Whoa, you really are the Chosen One,” Thorn breathed in awe.

“What is wrong with you two?” Fox shouted at them. “This isn’t good!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, Ponds is pretty much Windu's son at this point. 
> 
> Can anyone guess who Thorn rescued??? Curious if someone can blindly get it right haha.


	12. Fox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fox + Anakin = Pure Chaos
> 
> Poor Rex gets yeeted all the time by his general.
> 
> Warning for slight dubcon where Ventress kissed Fox w/o consent.

“We’ll never get up there in time,” Thorn shouted and ducked in time to avoid an elbow to the face. Screaming civilians and politicians were streaming out of the senate building where the explosion had happened.

“You’re right, this is taking too long,” Skywalker panted, wincing as he prodded at his bleeding lower lip — an unfortunate result of catching a heavy handbag squarely in the jaw. He glanced at the two guards, blue eyes narrowing.

Fox’s heart sank.

“Deep breath, boys,” Rex general said with a devilish grin. He took a step back, lifted both hands and made an aborted motion that sent both troopers flying into the air like they’d been launched out of a circus cannon.

Air buffeted Fox’s exposed face. He heard Thorn’s faint scream somewhere to his left, but the air current made it impossible to inhale let alone shout. Fox managed to tuck his flailing limbs in just as they flew the gaping hole blown into the side of the building. He collided with something soft and warm. Thorn had crashed through the conference table after him, legs akimbo. In hindsight, that would turn out to be a blessing in disguise. Fox pushed himself upright and froze in horror. The soft warm thing he’d fallen face-first into was a chest attached to a live person, a woman to be exact, and his left hand was now—

Asajj Ventress’s thin lips curled into a disdainful sneer.

 _“Sorry!”_ Fox managed to squeeze out as he wrenched his hand away from her breast. His attempt to maneuver off of her was rudely put to an end when Ventress seized his throat in a crushing grip.

The woman beneath Fox frowned suddenly, ice-blue eyes narrowing as she leaned in, “What’s that smell?”

“Let go...of my neck and I’ll tell you,” Fox wheezed, catching her thin, birdlike wrist in his gloved fingers. Black spots were starting to take over his vision, but he was relieved to see past the smoke that the conference room was mostly empty. That meant Stone and the other shock troopers had evacuated the politicians in time to avoid the blunt of the violence.

“You’re the one Kenobi’s obsessed with,” Ventress murmured, not bothered in the least by the two-hundred pound man plus armor sitting on top of her.

“’m putting you under arrest,” He huffed, struggling against her hold with renewed vigor.

“With what army, sweetheart?” She purred in amusement.

“Don’t need an army to take you in,” Fox snarled, slapping one end of his stun cuffs over over her wrist and the other around his own just as Skywalker came diving into the chaos after them. The Dathomirian woman's fingers loosened for a fraction of a second over his neck, but that was all Fox needed to wrench free and twist her arm behind her back. He dragged the Sith assassin to her feet, keeping both of her wrists firmly in his grip.

“Boys?” The young general prompted, staggering to his feet and settling off a cloud of dust and debris. His face fell when he spotted Thorn’s barely visible legs sticking out of the smashed table.

“Kark it,” Skywalker groaned, fumbling for his absent weapon as the senior commander crawled out from the pile of scraps, cradling his head.

Ventress laughed at their lack of coordination. Instead of trying to escape, she pressed up against him. Face going hot, Fox shoved the Sith assassin away, forgetting for a split second that he’d cuffed them together. He saw the Dathomirian woman’s smirk widen before the world tilted on its axis. She wound a thin arm around his neck in a tight chokehold after using the momentum and throwing him over her shoulder like he weighed nothing.

“You’re brave,” Ventress purred in Fox’s ear, “but so, so stupid, commander.”

Skywalker stood a few feet away, a useless waste of oxygen as usual. He’d managed to drop his lightsaber in the mess and grabbed a splintered table leg instead.

“Now that’s just pathetic,” The woman slowly squeezing the life out of Fox remarked. Even though he was seconds away from passing out, Fox had to agree with the sentiment. She dragged him to the edge of the broken window. Past the loud ringing in his ears, Fox could hear the faint whirling of an approaching transport pod.

“Took you long enough, Maul,” She muttered, turning to address something behind them.

“Crossed paths with a Jedi scum,” A low, gruff voice answered, “you’ve made a mess, Asajj. Kill him and let’s go.”

The arm around Fox’s neck loosened suddenly. She twisted him to face her, those long bony fingers settling around Fox’s clenched jaw. Ventress smirked at his scowling face.

“Hmm, I don’t think I will.”

It was all the warning Fox got before she closed the short distance between them and slanted warm lips over his. The unexpected kiss was followed by the sharp bite of pain. The one named Maul had severed the link on their cuffs with his lightsaber, scoring a searing cut down Fox’s front. It wasn’t too deep, but the plasma blade hurt like hell burning through flesh. His knees buckled as the Dathomirian woman abruptly let go.

She licked the smear of his blood from her lower lip, blue eyes alight with wicked humor, “come find me if you survive, pretty boy.”

 _“What the hell are you staring at?”_ Fox wheezed at the two other gobsmacked figures in the destroyed conference room after the transport shot into the sky, “go after them and seal the goddamn hyperlanes out of Coruscant!”

“Right,” Skywalker snapped into action. He tripped on a broken piece of transparisteel and groped his way over to Fox. A small pool of blood had collected around his knees. The lightsaber must’ve nicked something. He was starting to feel dizzy. Rex’s general cursed in Huttese at the sight of all the blood and gathered Fox into his arms. “Commander Thorn, send a message to air control. I’m taking him to the infirmary.”

Thankfully, Fox passed out before Skywalker could launch them out the window in the same method of travel as before.

* * *

Everything was pleasantly numb when Fox next opened his eyes to find Obi-Wan peering down at him with undisguised worry. Relief flooded Fox’s chest when he realized the senator seemed unscathed by the explosion.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Someone said. Fox turned his head with some difficulty to find Priest and Cory staring down at him. Priest clicked his tongue in disapproval, “almost thought we’d lost you for a bit there, sir.”

“The princess?” He managed to rasp out, gritting his teeth at the pulling sensation in his abdomen as the two medics helped him upright. Kenobi carefully held out a cup of water for him to sip.

“She’s unharmed, no major casualties other than the Separatists representatives,” The senator murmured, brushing stray curls out of Fox’s bruised face.

“What?” He asked, eyes narrowing at the suspicious words.

Obi-Wan calmly met his gaze, “I meant it when I told Commander Stone I had everything under control.”

“The room exploded,” Fox pointed out, remembering to pitch his voice low. The two medics had shuffled out to check on other patients in the Coruscant Guard Infirmary.

“So it did.”

Fox frowned, “You’re not secretly working with that crazy Sith woma—”

The door to his private room hissed open, and the princess he’d asked about earlier came rushing in.

“Senator Kenobi, I’ve spoken with my father, and he has agreed to the Republic’s terms of our potential alliance,” The young woman blurted out breathlessly, “I don’t know how to thank you for what you did today.” Her honey brown gaze settled on Fox, “oh, is this your..."

“Yes, Princess Deanna, meet Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard,” Kenobi said. He then did a strange thing and laid his palm over Fox’s hand, deliberately threading their fingers together. Head still groggy from the painkillers, Fox stared down at the linked appendages with bewildered confusion.

“As flattered as I am by your attention, dear Princess, I am quite happy and content in my current relationship,” Obi-Wan lied without so much as batting an eye. The heart rate monitor let out an ugly bleep as the Naboo senator brushed his lips gently against Fox's left temple with a fake saccharine smile.

“Right,” Her expression faltered. Fox almost felt sorry for the poor girl. “I will speak with you later then, senator.”

“You’re a fiend,” Fox remarked the moment they were alone again.

Obi-Wan lifted his eyebrow, “You would have me accept her marriage proposal? She’s clearly not thinking rationally with all that adrenaline coursing through her system.”

“At least tell her the truth,” He shrugged, meeting the senator’s gaze.

“I did tell the truth,” Kenobi muttered, hand fluttering to his chest, “are you telling me you’re not happy and content with our relationship, Fox?”

He rolled his eyes at the over-the-top dramatics. “Happy and content would not be the adjectives I would use, sir.”

“What would you use?”

“Manipulative and surprisingly violent.”

“Oh my.”

Fox heaved a resigned sigh, “Yeah, I think I might be a bit of a masochist.”

Obi-Wan snorted but didn’t let go of his hand.

“Why do you taste like fish?” He asked after a pause.

Fox groaned, “the Mon Calamari kid was crying earlier during a Jedi field trip to the Senate Building, so I held him a bit to calm him down.”

“I see,” Kenobi murmured, “and is he the reason High General Windu is currently outside holding two ice bags over Commander Ponds’s swollen face?”

“Probably,” Fox yawned.

“You should rest,” Obi-Wan decided, “I have a certain idiot to berate.”

“Maybe go easy on General Skywalker,” Fox said, “he did sort of save my life just now.”

“After putting both you and Commander Thorn in unnecessary danger?” His blue eyes flashed, “not a chance.”


	13. Thorn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there is death in this chapter, and less crack. 
> 
> I have decided to go with a bit of plot in this fic (I can never help myself, ugh. *Screams into the void*). 
> 
> There will be lots of canon divergence. Happy ending as always, though. Don't worry.

He had fucked up.

Sure, Thorn had fucked up a few times in the past, but this time, it had nearly gotten a brother killed.

“Unless your loving gaze can heal all wounds, I think Fox might appreciate it more if you went and did your job instead of hovering at his bedside like a grieving war widow, Thorn,” Thire’s irritated voice spoke from behind. With the big boss laid up in the infirmary for the foreseeable future, he had seniority in their command group.

“I’ll g-go,” He stuttered, lowering his gaze guiltily to the floor.

“Do you know what you’re supposed to be doing?” Thire asked, his tone softening with a hint of worry.

“Paperwork, patrols, the usual?” Thorn guessed weakly.

“You’re supposed to report to Hanger Sixteen,” The other Coruscant Guard senior commander sighed as he pulled up the schedule.

“Oh, the Scipio mission is today,” He blinked behind his bucket. Thorn had a vague recollection of reading the brief before the bombing incident yesterday. “Senator Amidala’s going to negotiate with the banking clan?”

“Kenobi offered to step in,” Thire corrected for him, “Senator Amidala’s newborns came down with vicious fever last night, so she’s headed for Naboo instead.” He checked the time display, “you have about ten minutes to get to the hanger. Wolffe doesn’t take too kindly to tardiness.”

“Right,” Thorn nodded gratefully, “Thanks, vod.”

He glanced at the prone figure still lying on the hospital bed. The stranger that Thorn had patched up in the lower levels had nearly filleted Fox like a fish. He had unknowingly helped their enemy, a Sith assassin working for the Separatists, even offered up his lunch to the man like the idiot he was. Fox’s skin was cold to the touch. Priest had given him some sedatives so he could sleep better, but there were still dark purple bruises under Fox’s eyes. With everything that was happening on Coruscant, they were all feeling a bit worse for wear.

“When he wakes up, could you tell him I’m sorry?” Thorn asked, dropping the man’s hand and making his way to the door.

Thire frowned after him. “What for?”

“Everything.”

* * *

Thorn supposed that a Separatists ambush in the middle of the negotiations was to be expected, what with the recent escalating series of aggressive attacks on the Republic and its representatives. But the whole company of B2 and commando battle droids framed against the night sky was still a fearsome sight to behold.

“Get the senator to an escape ship, Wolffe,” He yelled into the comm, ducking behind a metal crate in the open hanger to avoid the torrent of enemy fire.

Kenobi’s vehement protests were drowned out by Wolffe’s hard voice, “I’m leaving my boys in your hands, Thorn. You’d better make it out of there. You hear me?”

“We’ll try, commander.” They both knew it was an empty promise. There were too many droids. Thorn and the dozen or so Wolf Pack members were going to try their damnedest to hold them back for as long as they could. One of the troopers caught a stray shot in the shoulder and stumbled. Thorn scrambled over and tugged him behind the metal crate.

It was the new kid that Wolffe had introduced to him earlier that day — bright-eyed and eager, barely two weeks out of Kamino, and on his first mission as an official member of the 104th.

“You alright?” Thorn asked, pulling the trooper upright.

“What’s the plan, Commander?” The shiny asked, his voice laced with pain but impressively steady. Wolffe had always bragged in the chat that his boys were made of sturdier stuff.

“We’re going to take down as many of these metal bastards and buy those two enough time to get out of here,” Thorn said, trying to ignore the wet blood smeared on the boy’s clean white armor.

“Just say the word, sir,” Came the determined reply.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Ryo, sir,” He said, pulling out his remaining blaster.

“Having fun yet, Ryo?”

The shiny let out a forced laugh, “hell yeah, commander.”

Thorn tightened his grip over the blaster cannon clutched to his chest and nodded, “alright, kid. We move on three.”

They leapt from their hiding place as the thick metal crate finally caved under the concentrated fire blasts. Thorn’s heart hammered in his chest as he ran, dodging and weaving through the sea of clankers. The droids kept coming no matter how many they gunned down. He could see a few scattered bodies of the 104th strewed across the landing platform. The blaster cannon was overheating in his grip, searing Thorn’s palms past the thick layer of glove, but he refused to let go. They were going to have to pry it out of his cold dead hands, because CC-2291 wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

Sharp agony flared over his left shoulder. Thorn stumbled, the noisy whirling of gunfire fading to a distant thrum in his ears. His labored breath echoed in the sealed chamber within his bucket. Cold sweat stung Thorn’s eyes. Another blast caught his right leg, and he dropped to one knees, the heavy blaster cannon sliding from loose fingers. Out of the corner of his flickering vision, he saw Ryo crumple to the ground like a puppet with its strings severed. Summoning the last bit of his ebbing strength, Thorn gritted his teeth against the pain and reached for the blaster cannon again.

A black boot stepped neatly over his prone body. He heard the familiar hiss of a lightsaber as it deflected a shot aimed Thorn. The severed head of a battle droid rolled to a stop next to him. Thorn stared at the deep slash where neck used to meet shoulders. The neat edges of the cut still glowed red-hot, thin tendrils of steam rising into the chilly Scipio night.

With monumental effort, Thorn lifted his head and spotted a crimson, double-tipped saber moving with inhuman speed in the hands of the cloaked figure cutting through the droid army like a hot knife through butter. His mysterious rescuer lifted an arm and one of the ships carrying more B2s swerved wildly into a nearby carrier craft. The ensuing explosion rocked the landing platform, flames licking at the remaining clankers on the ground. Thorn dragged his protesting body a few feet to the left to avoid being buried beneath the fiery droid parts.

The stranger had circled back to him, and Thorn caught a brief glimpse of familiar orange-gold eyes glowing beneath the hood of the man's robes before he turned his back to Thorn again to finish off the remaining droids. The Coruscant commander crawled over to a dead trooper and grabbed the fallen clone’s blaster. Maul stumbled in surprise when two of Thorn’s shots clipped his bicep. The satisfaction was short-lived because the man tore his weapon away, and still using the Force, tossed Thorn’s limp body into the destroyed hanger like it weighed nothing.

Blood, sharp and salty, spread inside his mouth. Thorn had bitten his tongue when he crashed into the half-crumpled metal crate. Second time in less than a week that a Force user had thrown him around with their weird, annoying magic. Cursing in Mando’a, he fumbled off his cracked bucket and dragged in a deep, shuddering breath. The warm air tasted of ashes and spilled engine oil. The enemy approached on silent feet, powering down the red plasma sword, leaving only the soft sound of crackling fires. Thorn kept his eyes shut and didn’t move until Maul was within touching distance. Then he lifted his arm and—

“Seriously?” The Dathomirian drawled, gloved fingers like iron bands around Thorn’s wrist, the GAR-issued combat knife a hair’s breath away from his exposed jugular.

Thorn bared his teeth up at the Sith assassin, “You almost killed my brother.”

“You mean the one Ventress molested? I was doing him a favor,” He sneered back.

“Why are you here?” Thorn gasped. Judging by the amount of black dots dancing in his vision, he was not far from passing out.

“I don’t like being indebted to a Republic clone,” Maul murmured after kicking Thorn’s blade away, “even though your sandwiches are a crime against humanity.”

Thorn let out a surprised laugh and hissed as the hot pain flared in his wounds, “What do you know about humanity, _Sith?”_

The Dathomirian did not answer. He rose to his feet, and a heartbeat later, Thorn felt blunt pressure against the back of his neck. The world slid out of focus as he lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be about Wolffe and Obi-Wan. Spoilers, they don't get far. Jango and Hondo will show up. 
> 
> Maul's like the typical aggressive men in those awful asian romance novels where he goes, "woman, you've successfully caught my attention." 
> 
> And Thorn's like, "what woman?" 
> 
> (The Republic didn't have any files on Maul since he was operating in secret up until then. But he ran into a Jedi Master while sneaking around Coruscant (Asajj threw him under the bus), and Thorn found him in chapter 11.)


End file.
